Wyvernfall Posted November 8, 2017 Share Posted November 8, 2017 Rruror'rur'rr had been silent since he had entered the meeting of so many blasphemous beings back on Onderon. In fact, he had barely spoken at all since then, except to fulfill his word to Drogan and teach him some of the basics regarding the Tusken culture, sans any history as it was blasphemous for him to dare speak it. Eventually, when Drogan's ship dropped out of hyperspace above the glowing sandy jewel of Tatooine, Rruror'rur'rr could not help but smile beneath his mask at the site of the twin suns of his home. The brothers. I am home. Without a word, Rruror'rur'rr strode from the bridge where he had been standing with Drogan, making his way to where they had confined Raka, his Drexl mount. Even without a saddle or other usual equipment used by the Tuskens to ride their bantha mounts, Rruror'rur'rr trusted the beast. There was some sort of bond. Willed by the ancestors it seemed. As the ship made atmosphere a light in the hold blinked from red to green signalling their arrival. With a Tusken battle cry, Rruror'rur'rr's held his gaderffii in the air with one hand, holding onto a fold in Raka's neck with the other. Understanding his cry, the few crewmen outside the hold keyed the door and with a loud swoosh of air the Tusken atop his newfound steed fell from the ship and into the blistering warmth of his home. All about them ships dropped into the atmosphere to begin their oppression of the longtime invaders of his homeland. Rruror'rur'rr's task in this invasion was simple. Circling away from the civilized bits of Tatooine, the duo faced off into the sprawling vast ruggedness of the Jundland Wastes. Plummeting downwards at a steep angle from so high above, even the hot air ripping through his robes felt cool. This was something Rruror'rur'rr had never thought he would experience and he was enjoying it. Circling downwards, Rruror'rur'rr could see countless brethren scurrying about The Needles, a sacred Tusken place, They were his mission. Even more so, they were his family, his kindred, his brothers and sisters. While the Black Sun fleet laid siege to the piddly Hutt defenses and moisture farms, Rruror'rur'rr just needed to keep the true locals from getting caught in the crossfire, and he wasn't giving a second thought to those blasted Jawas. As Raka circled closer and closer, his shadowy form, outlined against the twin suns above created even more of a stir. Undoubtedly, the Tuskens below feared that the ancient demons who they had resisted countless generations before were returning to finish the job. Several potshots zinged past the winged duo, but the ancestor's voices cried out to Raka as they did to Rruror'rur'rr and they were able to avoid them. Panic turned to confusion at the site of Rruror'rur'rr mounted atop the beast, Gaderffii held high, a cry of battle on his lips. Several passes later and most of the tribal Tuskens in or near The Needles had back tracked to their encampments. True, there were other tribes wandering the deserts, but hopefully most had settled in for the dangerous sandstorm season. Circling in within full view of his brothers, Rruror'rur'rr dismounted with a leap and a roll through the warm, gritty sands of his homeland, a visage of ancient legend reborn. Even this was enough to give his fellow Tuskens pause. Enough, at least, to allow Rruror'rur'rr to approach and explain himself, telling the story of his tribe's slaughter, his capture, and more importantly his journeys through hell and the ancestor's willing of Raka to him as a new mount and the invasion of the offworld demons to oppress those who would seek to oppress them. His story, so out of the norm, was taken in with rapt attention as the storytellers of the tribes took in each and every word, seeking to add Rruror'rur'rr brief adventures to the annals of Tusken history. As swift and somewhat angry growls of debate erupted amongst the group, several scouts were sent out into the dangers of the wilderness during such a season to seek out other nearby tribes and to advise them of the truths that Rruror'rur'rr had brought to them. Even if just for the moment, many of the Tuskens would not be resisting the overwhelming force of offworld death from above. If the worst came they could go back to that which they had done for generations: resist. ((Invasion Assist)) Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted November 15, 2017 Share Posted November 15, 2017 After spending days convincing his brethren of the truth of his journeys beyond the suns into the hells of space and the bowels of the demonic techno-dependent evils of their past, and proving his newfound kinship, Rruror'rur'rr was welcomed back with a feast no living Tusken had ever seen. Tribes from the furthest regions of Tatooine's barren sands, where no mortal offworlder had set foot in lifetimes, made their way to The Needles to commemorate this momentous occasion; their brother, who was once dead, was alive again! he had been blessed by the ancestors and had returned to their home with knowledge of the demonic would-be overlords and a newfound powerful mount to lead them into a time of blessed peace! As the day of feasting grew near and hubba gourds, black melons, roasted Wamp Rat, and a thousand other delacacies harvested from the unforgiving wilds of Rruror'rur'rr's home or plucked from vanquished foes were gathered aplenty in preparation, many more tribes of Tuskens arrived at The Needles until the entire area was filled with tents, banthas, and the sound of running children. Never before had such a gathering taken place since the time that the overlords had devasted their once green home world. As the camp grew in size daily, news from the furthest reaches of Tatooine was shared. Some information was of little importance while others were highly important. New wells being discovered. The latest locations of any of Tatooine's untold numbers of feared beasts. Expeditions vanquished for trespassing. Many of the tribes that arrived spoke of seeing the oppression of the offworlders by metal beasts from the sky. The same likened to those that brought the offworlders to their home in the first place. Poetic justice at its finest in many of the Tusken's eyes. Amongst all this news came word of a ship, a ship that Rruror'rur'rr recognized. His offworlder friend, though to speak that aloud would be blasphemous, Drogan, had been found. Even now, whilst the owner and his men were away, many Tusken warriors had surrounded the ship at great distances, rifles leveled in preparation for the slaughter when the owners did return. With barely a word, Rruror'rur'rr set about gathering some of the best warriors across the tribes, and they on their banthas and he mounted upon a low flying Raka set off over the sandy dunes and rocky peaks towards where the ship had been sited. He saved my life. I will not let him be killed this day. Rruror'rur'rr steeled himself with the thought and led the band of ragged looking desert hardened warriors silently through the sands. Eventually, they arrived, fanning out Rruror'rur'rr and his entourage found the other Tuskens who had been lying in wait and told them of the joyous news of Rruror'rur'rr's return from beyond. Now, they would be afforded the honor of seeing their newfound comrade in action, he had promised, when the raiders returned to their metal coffin from the sky! Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted November 24, 2017 Share Posted November 24, 2017 The roughly 20 Tuskens that had Drogan's ship surrounded from as close to 50 yards and as far as a couple miles out watched in absolute silence, unmoving invisible sentinels against the sandy dunes and jagged outcroppings. With the site of a single being standing outside, they waited. Waited until the opportune moment. The warriors had heard the tales of their newly returned brother from beyond the stars. While some of them doubted his stories, there was some truth. His tribe and his bantha had been slaughtered; it was not hard to prove that; and then here Rruror'rur'rr had suddenly appeared riding through the air atop a fearsome beast no tales of their history had ever spoken of, with these strange tales of hellish worlds and demonic beings against whom he had battled - and won. Whatever had happened, at the least, their brother had earned a chance to prove himself. Rruror'rur'rr and a band of warriors had come from The Needles to join the other warriors, settling in to watch with the others; not, assuming command. Lying flat on his stomach, partially buried beneath the hot sands, his archaic rifle cleaned and propped, angled at the ship and the armored being standing outside, Rruror'rur'rr watched and waited. The man he could view through his scope was most assuredly his newfound comrade, Drogan. The question was, What is he doing? Standing there. Waiting? They wouldn't take just the one knowing that there were others aboard the ship. For now, they would have to wait. Still, Rruror'rur'rr knew it was time to act. The man standing there was the closest thing he had to a friend and had even brought him home; and now, despite the sweltering heat, stood outside in the beating sun doing....nothing. As the voices of the ancestors swirled through and around his mind, Rruror'rur'rr knew, Drogan was waiting for him. Without a word, the massive winged beast rose up from beneath the sand where he had taken shelter, unaccustomed to the deathly twin suns' rays, as a phoenix rising from the grave with an angry cry, flinging a plume of dusty sand far in every direction. Atop the buried Drexl rode Rruror'rur'rr, as they shot skyward a Tusken battlecry on his lips. His brothers did not know what Rruror'rur'rr was doing, assuring that they would stick to their instincts and allow the crazed returned one to show his colors; after all, perhaps the loss of his bantha or his time offworld had fried his brains more than the desert heat ever could. Shooting into the sky, the winged duo cast a shadow over the sands as they circled about and shot down towards Drogan, landing in a crash of sand and animalistic cries.Rolling to a dismount a fair distance from Drogan, Rruror'rur'rr in his identical Tusken garb, leveled his rifle at Drogan, speaking in a low growled basic, "You wish to learn of our ways still?" Disarm yourself and your men. You shall come with me and they shall stay with my brethren. It is time to learn." With that, he tossed a pile of rough hewn robes and goggles, sans anything decisively Tusken in Drogan's direction. "Wear these." Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted December 15, 2017 Share Posted December 15, 2017 Rruror'rur'rr approached Drogan, the shadows cast by his mighty steed blotting out the light of the twin suns over both of them. With hardly a glance at the man to see that he was not obviously armed he growled something unintelligble, raising his rifle into the air with a howl he swung it forward, not attackingly, but in a way so as to signal his fellow brethren to advance. From all around them, from a variety of distances, about a dozen Tuskens seemingly materialized out of the sand and silently and quickly advanced down to the ship, their body language betraying what their shrouded faces could not, stark disapproval for the ship and her crew. The remaining Tuskens remained hidden in the sands, watching, silent keepers of their holy sands. Leaning forward towards Drogan, until his mouth was roughly near where Drogan's ear would be he whispered in gravelly raspy basic, "Your men will be safe." Turning, he waved, Drogan to follow him. Without a word, the duo set off into the bright sands under the searing heat away from the strange, if not tense, situation around the shining ship parked in the shifting sands. Soon enough the duo had walked out of site of their comrades over and around countless dunes and rocky outcroppings. Eventually, as thirst had well set in, the twin suns of Tatooine began to set in the distance. For the first time, Rruror'rur'rr spoke, having ignored any attempts at conversation from his comrade up until this point in time. Pointing at a rocky outcropping, "We shall stop for a period of rest and then continue on in the cool of the night. Travelling in the heat of the sun for too long is not wise." Stooping down,, Rruror'rur'rr laid his rifle beside him in the sands and began to dig and shuffle the sands about, quickly revealing several elongated yellow fruits. Plopping down in the sand next to a scruffy looking row of scrubbrush growing out of the base of the cliff, he waved Drogan to a seat, tossing one of the gourds at his newfound companion. "You see, the land cares for those that belong to it." Pulling out his primitive scrap-metal-made knife, he pried the fruit open, sending the sour fragrance of the fruit into the still air and revealing the stringy green pulp. Carefully drawing back his face mask so as to still keep himself hidden from Drogan, he took a wet slobbering bite, slurping the sour liquid and stringy fruit up hungrily. Once he had finished his fruit, and having made sure his mask was set back properly he continued to speak, "We are journeying to the edges of the shifting sands ((Dune Sea)) to where many of our people roam, there, I shall take you to the Valley of The Spirits ((Edge of the Jundland Wastes)). The darkness of my ancestors speaks there. There, I shall teach you. Fear not, your friends will not be able to follow us. My people have been protected by our ancestors there for years." ((Magnetized deposits in the Jundland wastes apparently screw with sensors)) Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted April 17, 2018 Share Posted April 17, 2018 The Tusken’s newfound warrior companion had made with haste to get away at the approaching sandstorm. In yet another difference of cultural opinion, Rruro’rur’rr could hear the voices of his ancestors whispering to him as the winds began to pick up. Running out into the whipping winds, the Tusken fell forward on his knees facing into the wind bellowing a cry of rage, the pent up sadness, rage, and loneliness at the loss of his tribe, his bantha, and even his understanding of the universe exiting his mouth and being absorbed in the sand strewn winds that ripped at his tight ceremonial wrappings. The coarse sands of his homeworld tore by and around Rruror’rur’rr slowly piling around him as it swirled upwards restructuring the endless dunes of the planet. As the storm passed, the Tusken found himself unburying himself from the dry sands that had nearly enveloped him. Had it not been for the guiding of the ancestors in the blindness of the storm, he surely would have perished. Shaking his sleeves off and sending bits of sand skittering across the sand swept landscape beneath him before he bent over and shook the sand off his robes and leggings. Once he was satisfied that he had deposited as much of the planet back to it as he could, he hefted his rifle, an archaic slug thrower that was as worn and weathered as he was, across his shoulder and set off in a seemingly aimless direction. In truth, Rruror’rur’rr was following the whispers of his ancestors as they directed him to travel towards a nearby village that was little more than an outpost. Truth be told, Rruror’rur’rr had been a part of a raid over a decade ago that led to the decimation of the outpost’s local populace. After several hours of walking the sand colored buildings of the outpost came into view. Lying prone in the course sands overlooking the unnamed settlement, Rruror’rur’rr took in the entirety of the simple break in the rolling sands through the worn scope. Seeing no obvious signs of impending violence, he rolled gracefully to his feet, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he silently made his way sliding through the sands one side-footed step by side footed step down the dune towards the sparse outcropping of sand blasted buildings. Aside from the ever constant whistling of Tatooine’s winds, there was no other sound on the sparse worldscape; but still, the whispers followed the Tusken. They always followed him, whispering guidance and wisdom to him in his times of need. Following the whispers, Rruror’rur’rr found himself making his way towards the dingy cantina at the center of town. In this remote of a galactic corner things like automatic doors were a luxury. A luxury that soon broke down at the thousands of microscopic hands that were the swirling particles of sand that made up the planet’s surface. The aged metal door swung open with a relatively easy push, slamming into the rocky wall behind it. Peering into the gloomy interior of the cantina, Rruror’rur’rr stood uncertain. The ancestors had directed him here; but what would happen next? Gripping his gaderffi in one hand, still hanging from his bantha leather belt, he paused allowing his eyes, accustomed to the brightness of the twin suns to adjust. Inside he could make out the silhouettes of several heavily armor clad beings. warriors. he surmised. Are we to fight? The ancestors were not warning him of any immediately impending assaults, but still, he was tense here, in the lair of the enemy; intruders upon his sacred world. Standing there in the doorway he waited, allowing those within to make the next move. If there was to be blood, he was ready. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted April 27, 2018 Share Posted April 27, 2018 With a barking snarl, Rruror’rur’rr yanked his hand back from the sudden lunge of the blue haired female before him; raising his gaderffi clenching hand to shove the woman back for daring to touch him exposed as she was to the world. How dare you?!? he thought, angered by the mere action of touching his sacredly covered being by an outside infidel. Still….. It did take some nerve to come up to one of the desert’s most ancient defenders. Something he was not used to; she had pointed a gun at him, but had since holstered it and was not threatening him. With a low rolling growl, he lowered his gaderffi and glowered at the warrioress before him. Courage had to be respected; even if she was on his world as a defiler. In a low slow gravelly basic, he responded, ”My people do not dance for the pleasure of outsiders.” Looking up and down Rose’ blue armor clad being, he could not help but appreciate her form, even beneath the armor, a compliment to her lionhearted take on life,”But the dance of the warrior is always welcome.” he tapped his gaderffi hanging at his side, subtly, the smile of pleasure twinkling at the edges of his raspy sand-strewn voice. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted April 28, 2018 Share Posted April 28, 2018 Shooting a glance through his goggled mask at offending warrior. Just another wannabe soldier of fortune that has come to desecrate our sacred lands he thought to himself, pushing the thoughts of the offending man from his mind. This was neither the time nor the place. His ancestors had called him to this dingy bastion of offending offworlders even if he did not know why…….yet. Diverting his attention back to the attractive infidel who had dared touch him; awaiting her response. Rruror’rur’rr was aware of the fact that the she too could begin the flow of combat. Why start a second with an upstart who was more content to sit and drink his sorrows away than to go back to his own home and defend it himself? Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted April 28, 2018 Share Posted April 28, 2018 The Tusken was so taken back by the sudden and rather unexpected reaction from the blue haired offworlder that he had no choice but to be dragged to the dance floor in shock. What in the name of all that is holy is going on here?!?!? His internal voice cried in fear as he found himself whirling about the floor led by the shorter petite armored woman guide him across the floor. Rruror’rur’rr had come quite far in such a short time. His tribe destroyed, kidnapped and taken to a far off world, fought to freedom, obtained a mystical mount as willed by his deceased bantha comrade, and now, here he was, willingly interacting with foreign trespassers of his world. Perhaps they were worthy of following the Tusken way he reasoned to himself as a way of justification as he held the woman and her exposed head in his arms as they moved. She did have lovely features, even if the mere sight of them was a violation of the Tusken way, he appreciated the curve of her cheeks and the smile on her lips; not to mention the apparent softness of her skin. Beneath his breather and facial wraps, Rruror’rur’rr smiled. He was enjoying this; though if pushed would not admit it and gave himself into the dance and gave himself into the dance. Even though he did not know the moves of the Mandalorian dance, he tried to follow along, incorporating moves from traditional Tusken ceremonial dances, throwing a random Tusken war whoop into the mix as they moved across the dance floor, two elegant warriors from different lines, embraced in the battle of ceremonial dance. Yet still, how can I defy my people by doing this? And how can I be enjoying this so much? Is she even worthy of my attentions? ”You move as a warrior,” he growled in little more than a whisper, given how close they were as they moved about, ”Perhaps you and your people should come and show me your ways.”he offered, hoping that they would accompany him outside to prove their skills and more so to prove by prowess in battle that perhaps, he, was worthy of this woman, this offworlder’s affections. His tribe was gone, what else could stop him? Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted May 4, 2018 Share Posted May 4, 2018 Beneath his shrouds Rruror’rur’rr smiled. He truly was enjoying the dance; but still, even though the ancients had brought him here, their whispers still urged caution with the foreign vixen before him; yet still, he pushed the voices from his head. He was enjoying the moment. Lost in the moment, he listened to her words, but did not take much heed in them; after all, he had invited her and her associates to join him in the sacred hunt of his people. Then, she kissed his mouthpiece, and in the moment, The Tusken paused, shocked at what had just happened. Who was he? What was he doing? His ancestors his culture, was he a traitor? The nomadic desert warrior did not have time to ponder it further as the voices of the ancestor’s cried in an echoing crescendo within his soul warning him too late as the petite female he was wrapped up with on the dance floor drove her forehead square into his face, driving the strongly shroud seated facemask and goggles into his face. Jerking his head back as the surprising jolt of pain rocked his face, he let go of the woman before him, stepping back as stars spun for a moment before his eyes. Instinctively, he reached down and pulled his jagged and well-worn gaderffi from the leather loop on his belt. In the same smooth movement derived from years and years of hand-to-hand combat he drove the lethal serrated flanged spear end of salvaged durasteel plating of his weapon towards Rose’s gut, the haft of his weapon sliding like greased Jawa innards along his hand until he was gripping the opposing end of his weapon with both hands, a short spear in the hands of a master. At that same moment Rose’s own blade appeared from her sleeve. Heeding the ancestors’ call to follow his ancient traditions d defend the honor of his people and even these lands. Rruror’rur’rr let forth a low snapping snarl. ”Graaa’grak’k’krarr!” Still, there was just something almost intoxicating about the woman before him and so at the last minute he pulled his blow slightly so as to avoid any potentially devastating injury. They were now engaged in a dance that transcended time and culture: Battle. The dance of truth and understanding. ((1)) Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted May 7, 2018 Share Posted May 7, 2018 The Tusken quickly withdrew his extended gaderffi after striking a semi-successful blow to the woman before him. With his legs slightly bent and tensed he watched as she flitted about probably looking for an opening he thought as he held his people’s signature weapon in both hands, arms crooked ready to lash out with either end at a moment’s notice when she got to close. The blade the blue haired vixen was wielding hummed with an unnatural mechanical vibration; yet another disgusting reliance on technology. When she did lash out, again she used the foul technology to her advantage. As the ancestors whispered warnings of her impending attack to Rruror’rur’rr, and he saw the speed in which she closed the short distance between him; he knew, instinctively that a crushing blow would follow. Turning his body so as to try and catch the blow; he exposed his heavily muscled right calf and backside of his leg, whilst simultaneously trying to catch the armored leg of his opponent along the haft of his metal gaderffi. The bite of the buzzing vibroblade was horrendous as it tore through the cloth wrappings of his lower leg, separating sinews and flesh as it passed through him as easy as a stone through hot bantha butter. With a cry of pain and anger, his leg gave out beneath him, unable to support the weight of the full grown Tusken as his Achilles tendon was wrought in two. Tumbling to the ground, the Tusken twisted, his gaderffi, chest, arms, and flowing robes working in tandem, all extensions of his very being, the desert dwelling nomad that he was, trying to not only pull the woman down by her extended leg, but also attempting to catapult her and her accursed self-propulsion device into the nearby bar; with hopes that the lithe woman’s blasphemously induced momentum would be her downfall. Crashing to the ground as blood spurted from his wound, he snarled incoherently, the animalistic instincts of any sentient being taking over; although, it was true that the ways of the Tusken Raiders did promulgate a closer affinity to such feelings than many more advanced cultures of the day. Even in his most basic instinctual mindset, Rruror’rur’rr was guided by the voices of his ancestors as he scrambled to not lose sight of the woman who only moments before had seemed content to dance with him to the strange music of the offworlders. Deep down, Rruror’rur’rr knew that such an injury quite likely had the potential of ending his life; even after his glorious homecoming, he would have no choice but to force himself deep into the desert sands to be consumed by the raging suns and sands of his homeworld. So was tradition. So should he die if he were to survive his current situation. He was a fool to have come, he chastised himself silently. A fool and the spirits had allowed him to give in to his own pride. This was the price. But pride or not, he would honor the ways of his people and finish what had been started. Even as blood soaked through his leg wrappings and began to slicken the floor beneath him, he gripped his weapon as he struggled to his knees, preparing for the next blow. ((2)) Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted May 10, 2018 Share Posted May 10, 2018 Rruror’rur’rr glowered beneath his face wrappings at the comments of the blood spattered woman before him. His blood coated the woman’s face with a fine pink mist, as the wound continued to seep through his leggings and began to pool on the floor. Gaderffi clutched in both hands, ready to strike with either end he tried to keep the armored technologically dependent beauty in his site. He struggled to turn about, knowing that his back was still exposed. Still, instead of striking for his open backside, as he had expected, she drove her humming blade towards his chest. As his ancestor’s warned him of the incoming blow they seemed to guide his hands as he flicked the curved club like end upwards. The screech of metal on metal filled the bar with an ear splitting cry; the ball of the scavenged spacecraft cast off gaderffi’s club connecting with the vibroblade and diverting it away from his chest and what would have been a fatal wound. Taking advantage of the raised club, The Tusken swung the weapon forward at his advancing attacker, driving the point of the club-like end of his primitive weapon downwards towards the beauty’s upper arm and shoulder hoping to knock her arm away, possibly disable it, or at the least cause her to lose ahold of her accursed blade. The sweep of her armored leg collided with an audible THUD as her swinging limb connected with his robed, but unarmored upper thigh. Rruror’rur’rr gritted his teeth in pain. That was going to leave a mark! Still, he did not topple over; his center of gravity much closer to the ground and even wounded, he was much more solidly balanced on his knees and feet than one on their feet, much less a single foot. Having already swung his gaderffi forward, The Tusken drove the spear pointed opposite end downwards at the leg connecting with his own thigh; a move of battle-hardened reaction more so than a conscious thought. Rruror’rur’rr laughed aloud, his voice a deep cracking snarl, ’Rararararara! Grah C’rik C’graw-n’k” ((hahahahaha I do not fall that easily love)) If he could knock her to ground next to him, he could take away some of the disadvantage he was now at and attempt to grapple with her instead; using his hardened Tusken physique to his advantage over the petite woman before him and her reliance on technology to carry the day. Besides, if he was completely honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind rolling around with her anyway; regardless of the situation. ((3)) Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted May 16, 2018 Share Posted May 16, 2018 Shock. Rage. Fear. Anger. Betrayal. Loss. The emotions swept over him in an instant as his expertly wrapped face covering was stripped away in an instant by means of the technological machination wielded by his beautiful foe. The blade as it expertly split his face from the wraps held against it, drew a line through the outer layers of flesh on his cheek as he was pulled down atop the Mandalorian in a passionate embrace. In his own confusion, Rruror’rur’rr was unsure what to do. On one hand he was enraged that his sacred traditions had been violated by this offworld demon; very, very attractive and intoxicating demon. On the other hand, as her soft lips pressed against his, he could not help but be drawn in by the woman’s passion, mingling with and against his own as they toppled to the ground. As quick as the kiss had been initiated it was over. Looking up at Rose, a look of confusion his face, Rruror’rur’rr shook his head, and muttered, a low guttural whisper, ”If only I could.” wiping streaks of blood off of his face as he sniffed and pointed towards his mangled leg. He had no doubt that his walking days were over. All that was left for him now was to go forth into the deserts and allow the viciousness of his world to overcome him. Though, he doubted he would make it out of site of the city in the state he was in. All was lost and yet nothing was lost. His traditions were as tattered as his robes and body and yet, like them, he still clung to them. Reaching for his gaderffi, which had clattered to the ground a short distance away when the two had fallen to the floor, he slowly hefted himself to a kneeling position, his grizzled skin and stubble covered face doing nothing to cover the deathly glare he shot around the cantina at the patrons who dared stare at him. None were worthy to look upon a Tusken; but what could he do? None, but perhaps the armored woman before him. With all the humility he could muster, he inclined his head to the Mandalorian warrioress, ”Please help me outside.” It was a shameful act, but what else did he have to lose at this point? Here he was, all alone. The ancestors were silent; mocking him for his disgrace. Perhaps, he could go outside. Somewhere, in the vast wilderness laid another offworlder, one that his ancestors had seen fit to bless him with before he had dishonored them. Perhaps the Drexl of Dxun would still head their bond. Even in the stillness of the ancestors, Rruror’rur’rr could sense that his friend, his mount, his Raka, was near. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted May 18, 2018 Share Posted May 18, 2018 Gritting his teeth in pain, Rruror’rur’rr leaned heavily on his-until-recent-foe and his gaderffi as he hobbled outside, leaving a trail of blood from his injured leg behind him. Truth be told, the wound itself did not hurt as much as one would imagine, courtesy of the vibroblade’s vicious effectiveness at tearing flesh from bone and sinew. As they ventured into the bright sunlight, the Tusken squinted in the bright light. He was unaccustomed to viewing his homeland through anything but his mirrored protective eyewear. The scorching sun searing his eyeballs into pinpoint pupils as they fought to contain the light. Breathing heavily, he willingly allowed himself to be flopped atop a speeder, accursed mechanical machination that it was. Even better was the fact that the owner of the vehicle was one of his accursed sandswept neighbors who had fully embraced technology and the fear that it inevitably induced in those who became addicted to it. With a snarl that was more animalistic than human, Rruror’rur’rr wrenched forward in pain, grabbing at his leg while Rose stapled it shut, containing the severed tendon within his mangled leg. Rocking back, clutching his leg, he hissed in pain. His cries combined with his image drawing the stares and wide berth granted to them by the odd passerby or four that shuffled about their business. The Tusken’s cry permeated not only the harsh warm dry air all around them, but also rippled through the force, his ancestral guides carrying his pain beyond the range of normal hearing. As he grimaced and focused on blocking out the pain, he cared a glance at the blue haired woman tending his wound. She certainly was strange. They had danced, fought, and bled; then she had kissed him and helped him outside where he was now tending his wounds. All while she intentionally or unintentionally defiled his most sacred of customs. Perhaps the ancestors had truly abandoned him. He had failed them more spectacularly than any of his own and now he would die; as was only fitting. Still, he was not dead yet. How else could he fail them? With nothing left to lose he stared into the blue haired vixen’s eyes, ”What is cyar’ika? he queried as he turned the clearly non-Tusken word over on his tongue. ”Why do you treat me so? Your kind are prodorissac, yet still, you are quite beautiful. Like the blooms of the molo shrub as the first light of the elder brother wash over them. We,” he continued, allowing the words to flow more freely than he had ever before when conversing with an outsider, as he struck his chest with a closed fist,”have survived here for time eternal. Having driven off The Builders and will defend our homeland from those accursed descendants of the exile…..” Rruror’rur’rr’s voice trailed off as his mind caught up with his mouth, his hands clenching to fists beneath his thighs, as he came to the realization that perhaps the ancestors had branded him a prodorissac as well, like so many that The Builders of yore had exiled from their sacred home eons before. Closing his mouth, the Tusken pursed his lips, clenching his teeth within his closed mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as a single tear trickled down his face. Inwardly, the demons raged as he struggled with the sudden connection of knowledge and circumstance: The Tuskens of old had banished many of their most arrogant brethren who had not properly cared for the land to the space beyond their sacred homeland. Perhaps, the ancestors had deemed him arrogant and uncaring as well, had killed his bantha and banished him. His wounds at the hands of this offworlder were simply punishment for his audacity to return. ((Prodorissac = betrayer)) Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted May 22, 2018 Share Posted May 22, 2018 Rruror’rur’rr smiled as he listened to the woman; allowing her to squeeze his shoulder as the strange robotized being began to work on her. After Rose had finished speaking, the Tusken shook his head as he responded to both her and the query of the other being who seemed to be some sort of brother to the female he had fought, "We have been here for time eternal. My people. For generations we have been born to and died in these sands. We are the land just as we are from it. We rely on the land to provide, not on our selfish pride and reliance on foul technology. Because of that that we shall be victorious.” Looking from Rose’s exposed face and oddly mesmerizing blue hair, he followed her gaze out towards the horizon taking in the pale nothingness so many outsiders saw where he saw life, death, hope, and home. ”We were here long before your kind came….” his voice trailed off as he watched the burning twin suns chasing one another slowly across the sky, leaving the unsaid, but thought, and will be here long after your kind are gone hanging unspoken in the ether. Sitting there in relatively silence, he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. He still had his gaderffi and his rifle. Perhaps I have proven something to these demons after all he pondered. After several minutes of silence, save for Dark’s working he remembered, she had asked him his name and had given hers in turn. ”Rose,” it was a simple name; a name far simpler than the creature who he had just fought with. Maybe it means something in their strange tongue he concluded after giving it some thought. Raising his hand he tapped his own chest and with a short multi-syllabic bark gave his own name, ”Rruror’rur’rr.” Staring back out to the vast expanse of the wastelands that were his home he sighed, his hand nonchalantly slipping over Rose’s armored leg next to him, as a shadowy winged figure broke from the horizon of the wastelands before them, a black speck in the distance; wings flapping as it slowly grew nearer and nearer. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted May 31, 2018 Share Posted May 31, 2018 Even as he slowly shook his head, his gaze turned to Dark. He could not be somewhat shocked at the mechanized being's observation of his people's basic beliefs. Still, it was clear that they did not understand the nuances of his people and he did not have enough time to teach them, outsiders, of his people's thousands of years of history. Besides, he was not a storyteller. It was not his place. Still, he had condemned himself thus far, what could a brief explanation hurt. He also appreciated the being's effort and returned the embrace of warriors that transcended cultures and beliefs. He gestured out at the dunes as his vision returned to the shifting sands and spoke in his native tongue, understanding that at least Dark understood him and assuming that as such, so did the beauty he was now seated beside, "There is much more to this land than the few cities of you outlanders. Overall, we have kept your kind contained. The magics of the far off secrets that no offworlders has gazed upon for generations have been protected." Pausing as his eyes turned to look at Rose as he spoke, he stopped talking at the look of lost confusion on Rose' face as he spoke, he realized that perhaps she did not understand even the little bit of his people that he had assumed. Truthfully, this warmed his heart. He would be able to teach her as she taught him. Switching to a gruff galactic basic he continued, "Countless generations ago the oppressors came from the stars and stole all of our water. They killed and enslaved millions. We, the strong, fought back. We were not enslaved. We were not taken by the techno-dependent monsters from beyond. Today, we that are descended from those righteous warriors continue to stave off the would be takeover by the descendants of those who were taken and indoctrinated by the demons and even the demons themselves." Pausing he pondered on the words Rose had said before he continued "Once our planet was lush and green. Filled with plants and water. The demons stole our water and killed our people. After we fought back and drove these techno-bound demons from our planet. In turn, they rained fire down upon our planet and turned it into a single giant wasteland of rippling crystal. For generations we existed, struggling to survive. Eventually the crystal crumbled to the sands you see today. Then the demon spawn returned. We drove them off time and time again and will do so yet again." The drexl screeched a cry of anger and passion, as it pulled up and landed in a rolling plume of sand and dust. Rruror'rur'rr smiled as he turned to his newfound comrades, his face wrinkling all through his cheeks as the rare sign of joy spread across his hardened jawline. Gesturing at the nearby ferocious beast with a sweeping open hand, he spoke again, "Raka. The beast that the ancestors blessed me with when I fought through and escaped the hell of the demons. Together we shall drive the demons and their ilk from my home. Perhaps, together, we can teach one another. You can teach me of your ways, your people, and your passions and I can show you the ways of my people and how we survive against those who would see us destroyed. I would even be willing to journey from my home with you to learn of your offworld ways." The ancestors had somehow cursed him and yet had chosen not to end him. He really did not know what to do; but he knew that he had crossed so many lines already. Why not follow his heart's desires and join these offworld invaders? Learn their ways? By learning the ways of the offworld invaders he would be better prepared to return home and drive the demons away for good. Who needs Glory? Glory is in living when everything, even the air, seeks to destroy you. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 3, 2018 Share Posted June 3, 2018 A hunt, now there was something that every young Tusken knew intrinsically. In fact, it was part of the sacred coming-of-age rituals undergone by every Tusken to ever stalk the dunes. Nodding, more to himself, than anything Rruror’rur’rr smirked. Yes, he would undertake a hunt with these two offworlders; if for anything, to see how and who they were and for another…. He cast a sidelong glance in Rose’ direction just as she started off with the dead Jawa. It could not fight and thus it died. He reasoned to none but himself. Such was the code of the desert. As Rose walked back, the Drexl happily crunching the bones of the deceased rodent-like being, Rruror’rur’rr dug in one of his belt pouches and removed a single lengthy strip of rough wrapping colored the same as the desert sands. With expert hands, from a lifetime of practice, he began to carefully wrap his breather and goggles about his face one pass at a time. Even as he wrapped his head, his eyes never left Rose. Mandalore? Chrystac? Beksar? What are these things? What Rruror’rur’rr did know was twofold. First, neither of these could properly pronounce his name, a minor irritation that he’d have to work on. Second, this offworld vixen was offering him a chance to fight alongside her, albeit off world as they conquered together. What better way to learn the ways of the invading demons than by conquering them at their own homes and camps? Beneath his mask, Rruror’rur’rr grinned, his muscles pulling at the still fresh wound along the side of his face. This might just be enjoyable after all. The ancestors did not seem to be urging caution, on the contrary, it would seem, they were urging him to follow. Cursed or not, Rruror’rur’rr would do his best to learn these new ways to preserve the old. Perhaps someday he would return home again. And if that wasn’t enough, The Tusken was pretty sure he caught the subtle hint that Rose threw at him with the armor bit. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t enjoy that! ”Let us hunt.” he growled as he pushed himself off the speeder in a single hop to the sand below where the fearsome desert nomad collapsed with a grunt of pain as his gashed leg, still unable to support his full weight, collapsed beneath him. Rruror’rur’rr was glad that neither of them, especially Rose, could see his face, bright red with embarrassment as it was. Using his gaderffi for support, he grimaced against the pain that shot threw his leg fresh as ever and pushed himself upwards to a standing position; the weight of his injured leg held mostly by his heavy leaning on his makeshift durasteel weapon. Nearby, Raka threw his head back in a fearsome snarling howl, sensing the pain of his master through their shared bond. Reaching down, The Tusken picked up his aged slug throwing rifle and slung it over his shoulder and carefully hobbled towards his bucking mount, before turning to Atlas and Rose. ”lead the way,” he grunted in his native tongue, before glancing at Rose and jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards Raka with a playful tilt of his head. He was not sure what she thought of the fearsome beast or if she would be more comfortable atop a mechanized speeder favored by many of the offworlding visitors, but it wouldn’t hurt him to offer. At least not yet. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 11, 2018 Share Posted June 11, 2018 The sight, and even more so the smell, of rotting bantha flesh caused the edges of Rruror’rur’rr’s view to cloud red. The rage he felt welling up in his soul tugged at his chest and urged him to action as his massive winged mount and comrade swooped low to allow Rose to dismount at the same time as Dark handed him a rifle. Rruror’rur’rr took the weapon; albeit more out of reaction than willingness to utilize an unknown weapon from someone he had just met, just as a massive head burst through the sands and devoured the sacred beast that had lay bleeding on the dry sands. In that same instant, Raka reared back, and Rruror’rur’rr and his drexl mount burst upwards into the cloudless sky. Circling the scene from above, The Tusken took in the scene from the relative safety of the skies. From his vantage point, he spotted a dune several hundred meters away. With barely a nudge of his feet, the massive scaly beast turned and swooped towards the dune, coming to a landing with a spray of sand and dust. Leaping from the beast as it skittered to a halt, Rruror’rur’rr tucked and rolled, his wounded leg screaming in pain as he tumbled to a stop his rifle and gaderffi swinging about wildly and the KX-80 tumbling in the sands. Pulling his head up as he stopped, the Tusken smiled to himself as he made out his newfound comrades. Right where I need to be… he thought to himself as he shrugged his worn tusken cycler off his shoulder and pulled it forward. ((1)) Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 13, 2018 Share Posted June 13, 2018 Rruror’rur’rr pulled the butt of his aged rifle tight into his shoulder like he had a thousand times before, the weapon finding its natural resting place like a bird coming home to roost. Staring down the barrel of the rifle, he quickly got an up close view of the battle scene unfolding before him. Overhead, his massive drexl mount circled hungrily - a foreign apex predator seeing another apex predator encroaching on what he now felt was his territory. Of course, it did not help at all that his mystical connection to the Tusken below and his unwavering desire to take down the massive beast transmitted between them both, fueling their desires for victory and bloodshed. Staring down the barrel as he had countless times before, Rruror'rur'rr watched the scene unfolding before him a safe distance away. He watched as the mysterious being who called himself Atlas was nearly swallowed up by the massive king of the dunes only to be rocketed upward to safety as if the ancestors had plucked him from the maw of death at the last possible moment. ”The man is truly a demon or some sort of monster,” he growled to himself In his native tongue before adding, ”and most likely totally insane!” Still, The Tusken knew that the maw of such a beast contained more death than its crushing, swallowing, gnashing teeth and mouth clearly presented to the average offworlder. Many-a-Tusken had fallen to the bite of the dragon and his kin days after a successful hunt. The saliva of the beast having eaten holes in the gangrenous wounds their teeth inflicted. Suddenly, several explosions rocked the battlefield and Rruror’rur’rr winced, even from his safe distance away. Explosions were not usually a good thing in his experience; unless they were symbolizing a crashing pod or offworld vessel that had been desecrating his people’s sacred sands. Returning his focus to the battle, Rruror’rur’rr searched for an opportunity to pull the trigger. He and his brethren had fought smaller dragons before, never one this big though. Still, he suspected that these dragons had the same weakness. At least he hoped they did. Maybe at the very least it would prove to the black armored man below that the Tuskens were well worth the mettle. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Hold. Rruror’rur’rr’s finger gently began to apply pressure to the smooth trigger of his aged cycler, following the thrashing beasts head, leading it ever so slightly as he began to understand its thrashing. Just before the trigger put pin to primer, The Tusken was startled as the massive beast’s equally massive tail sent his blue haired vixen tumbling through the air and slamming with a plume of coarse sand into a nearby dune out of sight from where he now was. An enraged Tusken war cry escaped his mouth before he could even realize what was happening. The red that had been creeping at the edges of his vision due to the desecration of his people’s sacred banthas, now completely overtook The Tusken. No longer was he planning and thinking, instead, the voices of his ancestors transformed from whispers and suggestions into screams for retribution and physical guidance. Rarely before, had he ever felt so close to the ancestors, but whenever he had his tribe had been in danger and they had led him to perform great feats to save his tribe from certain destruction. Suddenly the rifle that was more at home in his hands than strapped to his back was pulled taut against him once again, his pinprick vision laser-focused on the far off beast. He could feel the creature’s movements before it even knew it was making them. Atlas was out of sight, but he did not matter. The man was simply a third wheel as far as he was still concerned and his desecration of his sacred traditions would be dealt with later; but right now Rruror’rur’rr entire focus was bent on ensuring that the massive dragon that may have very well killed the only living individual he had felt any sort of softness for paid for his transgression. Paid for it with blood. Proned out in the sands of his homeworld with his rifle in his arms, Rruror’rur’rr could feel the ancestors in his mind, his bones, and his muscles, as they took control. Gone was the tactical breathing, gone was any attempts at stealth. With an unintelligible cry of pure rage that echoed across the vast empty sands , The Tusken squeezed the trigger and in that instant an explosion of powder and energy hurled from the elongated barrel of his weapon, a metallic slug enveloped in a sheath of energized plasma, towards the thrashing massive dragon. In the mere instant that it took the energy-bound projectile to traverse the distance between Rruror’rur’rr and the dragon, The Tusken pulled back on the bolt of his rifle and slammed it forward, ejecting the spent casing and loading another round; but before he could fire again the Dragon reared its head and the round buried itself deep into the massive monster’s sinuses, causing the beast to let out an ear-splitting unearthly cry of pain as it reared back in its hind legs and toppled backwards with a ground shaking crash, sending plumes of sand into the air, obscuring the entire area in a thinly veiled sandy fog. Pushing himself upwards to a kneeling position, Rruror’rur’rr raised his rifle above his heads in both hands and let out a triumphant victory cry, channeling the satisfaction of his ancestral guides into the cry that echoed all the way down to Dark and Rose below. In the moment, nothing mattered but the fact that he had once again established not only his, but his people’s dominance of these lands. Nothing could stand against them. They, no he, was the master of this land and the sacred protector of these sands! The ancestors had willed it as such. Nothing could stop him now. Any doubt that the ancestors had turned their backs on him was gone. He was their chosen son. Now to deal with the blasphemer… Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 16, 2018 Share Posted June 16, 2018 Rising up as a sand panther completing its stalking and making a final lunge for her prey, Rruror’rur’rr strove forward, his rage tangibly swirling about him as bits of sand and dust flitted through the air in an invisible whirlwind about his rough-cloth covered form. The Tusken’s first step, buckled him at the knee as his injury from his fight with Rose screamed out along his neural pathways and the mighty warrior stumbled, but caught himself with his swinging gaderffi at his belt; a makeshift cane for the moment that happened to have swung forward at just the right time to be caught in his hand and prevent him from tumbling face first down the dune. With the makeshift cane he hobbled as quickly as he could down the dune, slipping and sliding along the loose windswept sands, each step a new lesson in pain that served only to fuel the growing inferno within. It was if he were caught up in a violent Tatooinian windstorm, the voices howled so loudly in his ears, whispering their commands so loudly as to be unintelligible. Still, their rage was palpable and clouded his vision in a sea of blurring red. All of his desire directed him towards the downed cybernetic warrior who had killed an unknown number of his people’s sacred Banthas, not to mention how many of brothers and sisters. The voices of his passed on predecessors drove him onward, each footstep a new crescendo of pain that fueled the voices’ rage and his own burning desire to bring vengeance upon he that wronged his people. Two steps from the bottom of the dune, Rruror’rur’rr saw through his blurred rage vision the downed blue form of the woman he had fought in the bar. She did not look good. Even as the voices urged him on, somewhere deep within his chest, Rruror’rur’rr felt a pang of pain different from the shooting fire that shot through his body with each step. In some ways, the pang was even worse. It cut through the vortex of screaming internal voices, pain, and rage, and ignited an even deeper seeded fire; the fires of desire and loss. Turning midway through his mad dash towards the fallen form of the cybernetic Dark, his pained leg wrenched and gave out beneath him, tumbling the Tusken end over end to the base of the dune, sending his gaderffi flying through the air to land in the sand several feet away. Without pausing to dust himself off, Rruror’rur’rr looked up and could see the blood flowing freely from Rose’s wound, the venom coated spike nearby. Arm over arm, Rruror’rur’rr, pulled himself towards Rose, the sight of the blood flowing down her chin spurning him onwards. The voices of his ancestors, still swirling, but now mingling with the fearfulness of loss and the fear of defeat cried out, ancient fears as old as the desecration of his homeworld, mingled with his own fear of death and the fear of losing this woman, the only one who seemed to matter to him anymore. Now, she was dying and he knew it, but could not admit it. Pulling himself through the blood stained sand as the twin suns began to set in the distance, Rruror’rur’rr pulled himself up beside Rose. Gently he cradled her head in his hand as he lay next to her looking over her twisted, bloodied, and broken form. With a rough gloved hand, he brushed the blood from her chin and made a hushing noise before softly singing in his growling low Tusken voice, his voice carrying over the sands, each growled note punctuated with the tones of loss mingled with rage. …across the sands of our ancient homeland, may your heart eternally fly, embrace the call of the warrior kings who prepared the ways before us, to bathe in the waters of eternal victory, defy this desolate world and smile down on those of us who press onward still, guide our hands and hearts until we meet again, until we meet again, brothers, sisters, we all… Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 18, 2018 Share Posted June 18, 2018 As Rose’ words failed and the breath left her body, the momentary respite of sadness and compassion gave way as the momentarily suppressed rage swirled back to the forefront, bits of sand and gravel whipping up in a miniature whirlwind about his kneeling form and Rose’ prone lifeless body. Throwing his head back, Rruror’rur’rr let loose an animalistic blood-curdling howl of pain, anger, and mourning that carried on the increasing winds across the vast expanse of empty dunes, fueled by the growing reddened darkness emanating The Tusken. As the weight of his loss settled across Rruror’rur’rr’s very soul, he could feel tears staining the inside of his facial wrappings. Deep within his heart still churned his volcanic rage towards the entire situation that had unfolded since his tribe had been slain and he had been forced offworld. Since then things had continued to side downhill at an alarming rate culminating in this point. All that he had left was his strange bond with the massive drexl, Raka, overhead. It was said that all a Tusken needed was his bantha and his brotherhood to carry him through the day; but Rruror’rur’rr’s bantha was gone, replaced by the much more cunning beast overhead, and his brothers and sisters were dead or dispersed. Even so, just as with Raka, the ancestors had seemingly smiled on him, granting him a new start to a family in the bloodstained blue haired female before him. She had been so different, yet at her heart, he knew they shared a connection, a connection that went beyond their warrior pasts. Now she too was gone. Lost in his own thoughts, he sank deeper into his mounting depression at all that he had lost. He cradled Rose’ lifeless head in his hands, studying her features through his blurred tear-stained vision, his mind and heart awash with a sense of hopelessness and loss. He knew what he had to do. It was something that he had hoped to avoid for decades to come. Where rage had pulsed through his body only minutes before, The Tusken was now filled with a new and even darker emotion, loss; a loss bordering on emptiness. Where there was emptiness that which was near would seep in. On Tatooine that often meant sand for it was the ruler of all that set foot on the planet and they acknowledged it, willingly or not. For a Tusken Raider that was generally a form of anger or rage at the wrongs done to their people by generations of offworld scum. For Rruror’rur’rr, it was similar, it was the call of his ancestors; his roots; his very being. He would abide by their will and follow in their footsteps. But first, She deserves a proper burial. A warrior’s last rite… The Tuskens were nomadic people. Ritual held a special place amongst them as did simplicity, but in those simple traditions were the very definitions of what it meant to be a sand person, and in that, there was honor. He would honor Rose the best he knew how. As gently as he could, Rruror’rur’rr replaced Rose’ worn blue-tinged helm over her lifeless face and then tore off his own longyi-type lower robe, leaving his tightly wrapped legs exposed to the blowing winds, and used his robe to gently wrap around Rose’ gaping wound. The roughhewn cloth hissed as it came into contact with the poison mingled blood. Carefully, Rruror’rur’rr wove his bandolier about Rose’ shoulders; perhaps not the most honorable way to move her body, but it was all that he could do in the moment. Standing, Rruror’rur’rr’s injured leg buckled beneath him. With a cry of pain, he tumbled back to the sands of his home. Using his rifle and brute force of will, Rruror’rur’rr shoved the butt into the sand and pulled himself upwards. With one hand on his rifle as a crutch and his other wrapped up in the ends of his bandolier, The Tusken forcibly, step-by-step, began to hobble forward dragging Rose’ armored body through the sand behind him along the base of the dunes, away from the nearby battle scene, and out towards the vast endless deserts of Tatooine in the shadows of the setting suns. To die is to honor my people. In death I will be with her again. To die will mingle my soul with the voices of my ancestors the very ancestors who were now urging him forward, to follow the ways of his people. In death he would regain his honor and join Rose in the vast void beyond that the souls of all chosen warriors went to. Step by step, Rruror’rur’rr pressed forward into the growing shadows of the setting suns. Rruror’rur’rr’s grief mingled with his rage, driving his battered injured form onwards into the final campaign, life’s final battle, to lose it all in sacrifice for the ancestors, to guide his people onwards to victory. ---------- As Rruror’rur’rr pressed forward away from the scene of the carnage, above him, in the cloudless sky awash in the vibrant hues of the setting suns, The Tusken’s strange offworld mount continued to circle. The drexl had always been confident that it was the apex predator wherever it chose to roam; but like his ward, he too could feel the deep sense of loss. It was mingled with the pain and suffering that Rruror’rur’rr felt; but he felt it differently. Raka, as The Tusken called him, was no longer the undisputed master of these lifeless sands. The beast that had fallen had rattled the creature’s confidence, so when a predatorial cry echoed across the dunes, Raka circled away from his mourning ward, he could clearly care for himself, and swept upwards higher into the air, his eyes scanning the horizon for the source of the challenging call. After all, was not his two legged brother setting off to die? As he circled higher and higher, Raka finally saw it, a single being atop a distant dune. Such a petty challenger. It will soon be destroyed. ---------- Minutes later, Rruror’rur’rr rounded a dune to find a small creviced opening that opened into a steep sprawling cavern where the voices of his ancestors howled with the wind that whipped the sands past the opening hidden in the vast sea of crystalized glass particles. Tumbling inwards into the darkness, Rose’ body following him into the twilight darkness within, Rruror’rur’rr let out a sigh. The voices of his ancestors were louder now than he had heard them in years. This was where they desired him to be. This was where he would place the life of the woman he cared so deeply about. This was where he would die. With considerable effort, fueled by his love and loss, Rruror’rur’rr, on his knees, maneuvered Rose’ body to a naturally hewn cleft in the wall, where, if he had his way her body would rest protected from the burning sands for all of eternity, her soul free to fly through the cloudless skies alongside his own. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 18, 2018 Share Posted June 18, 2018 ------ Gliding on the buffeting winds of Tatooine, Raka’s fierce vision could see the small man below readying some sort of weapon. It was nothing he was not used to. How often had he been attacked by hordes of such beings before he had met his ward back on Onderon? His silly little metal launcher did not scare him, lord of this world’s skies. With a screech that would curdle the blood of any average townsfolk, the drexl turned and dove forward, his body racing towards the sandy dunes below, the sweltering heat whipping past his wings doing little to pull any heat away, but the speed cooling the edges of them regardless. Pulling up at the last moment the dragon-like being opened his tooth filled may with a screech as several red colored laser bolts zinged wide above where he had been circling. He will die for challenging me and I shall feast on his body Hurling forward above the tips of the dunes, the drexl’s leathery wings beat the air sending waves of loose sand into the air with each flap of his 19 meter wingspan. Such a little being, all alone, the best course of action was clearly a frontal charge. Approaching maximum velocity from his dive, Raka barreled forward intent on catching the offending man in his arm-length dagger like teeth. ((2)) ------ On his knees beside Rose’ lifeless form, Rruror’rur’rr sat in silence, save for the constant unintelligible whispers of his ancestral voices in his head. Even though he could not understand them, he knew what said. It was time. But still, he did not want to leave her side. Lifeless as she was, Rruror’rur’rr desired to sit here a little longer. Together they would lie in repose here in this dry dimly lit cavern maw for all of eternity. Deeper within, where the light no longer shone, the caverns continued on, a winding interconnecting labyrinth beneath the rolling dunes above, inhabited by who knows what ancient powers. Gently reaching forward, Rruror’rur’rr pulled off Rose’ battered helm and nestled it in beneath her arm. Those warriors that he had faced over the years seemed fond of carrying their helms in such a way. With his blood crusted gloved hand, he lovingly ran his finger along Rose’ paled cheek, brushing a loose strand of her blue hair out of her eyes as tears filled his own, flooding the goggles he wore over his face. Reaching upwards, The Tusken slowly began to unwrap the carefully placed and intrinsically custom-based rough facial wrappings from around his head, slowly exposing his worn and pained face. With shaking hands, he pulled the goggles away from his face, allowing the cool whispers of wind blowing up from deeper within to brush his tear-stained face. As the tears rolled down his face and began to soak the wrappings he had not yet removed, Rruror’rur’rr continued to carefully pull back the facial wrappings until he could also remove his mouthpiece; setting it alongside his goggles on the smooth granite floor. There in the dim light, Rose could have just been sleeping, had it not been for the streaks of bloody spittle about her mouth. Pulling off his glove, Rruror’rur’rr used the not bloodied wrist portion to wipe her face clean. Allowing the warmth of his own hand to rest against her cheek for a lingering moment as the thoughts of what could have been raced through his exposed mind. Choking back a sob, Rruror’rur’rr arched forward as he raised himself up to gently place a lingering kiss on Rose’ still lips. ”Until we meet again my love.” He roughly whispered trying still, even though he was all alone, to keep his voice from cracking. Sitting back on his haunches, he wiped away his own tears, only for them to be replaced by more that flowed from his maelstrom blue eyes. He knew what he had to do next; even if it was to regain his honor, he still was hesitant. Until now, he and his people’s honor were built upon their pride. They survived where others would and could not. They fought and not only survived, but conquered, their very world that had been turned from paradise into hell; just as he too now would turn his pride in survival and the honor it brought he and his people to pride in dying, dying by his own hand, to regain a shred of his honor and to honor his people. With a clack of his rifle butt on the ground, Rruror’rur’rr slowly and painfully picked himself up; using the elongated cycler to pull himself up. As he stood, leaning heavily on his weapon he turned to gaze down at Rose again. Soon… Reaching across his waist for his gaderffi, Rruror’rur’rr was horrified to discover that it too was gone; left lying lost in the sands where Rose had fallen. Regardless, he could still complete his ancestors’ final commands. He would die with honor. He had already lost his bantha once and his new mount would be led by the ancestors to a more deserving ward or be cursed as he was to wander the desert sands for the rest of his life, a monstrous offworld demon preying upon any that dared to cross him. Even now, Rruror’rur’rr could sense that his guardian brother, Raka, had set out in search of prey, to establish his demonic dominance upon the desolate wasteland that was his new home. With one hand firmly holding onto his rifle for balance, Rruror’rur’rr began to carefully disrobe, removing his traditional Tusken garb. Unlike Rose, who would lie clad in the mantle of her people, he would not. His body would be indiscernible from countless unmarked graves scattered across the planet. As was only fitting. The secrets of his people would not be revealed even in his death. Several minutes of ritual removal of the garb that he had spent more of his life in than out of and Rruror’rur’rr was standing there in nothing more than his tightly wrapped undergarments. Looking at Rose again, he let out a deep sigh before he sunk back down to his knees. Carefully, he took the countless lengths of wrapping and his robe and laid them out one atop another before finally setting his goggles and mask atop the pile. Reaching for his bandolier, he carefully untwisted it from Rose’ shoulders, allowing the smooth aged leather to run through his fingers, pausing as each round of ammunition slid through his fingers. He counted them, one, two, three,… Twenty-six, Rruror’rur’rr had twenty-six rounds of ammunition left that were not in his rifle. That was more than enough to fight for quite some time in the traditional Tusken way. Normally a Tusken would have left his weapons to a son or daughter and in lieu of them a younger Tusken preparing to set out on his trials. He would need to improvise. Squeezing the soft leather in his fist, Rruror’rur’rr gritted his teeth. Even in death he could not do things as they should have been. Still, the ancestral voices called to him, urging him forward. Throwing the leather and ammunitions to the ground atop his clothes, he inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose, his anger welling up within him. Anger at himself. How could he be such a failure? All he had done was live a life dedicated to following the ways of his people; but still, he was a failure. He had failed. There was clearly something wrong with him. This anger cracked open the churning rage that had been suppressed by the all-consuming grief that had overwhelmed him. Turning to look at Rose he shouted in his native tongue, ”Why?! Why me?! I am a failure at everything I have done! I dishonor my people! I dishonor my world! I dishonor my name! Even you! I love you and that too is apparently a dishonor!! What did I do! How can I control how you made me feel?! Am I cursed by the ancestors?! Did my father commit some grave offense for which he did not repent and now I am paying for it?! Why do I deserve this?!” Biting his lip, hard, Rruror’rur’rr could taste the iron tinge of blood. He hated himself. He was a failure and he was taking it out on this woman who he cared for and she was dead. How horrible! He did not even deserve to be considered a Tusken man. It would be better if he was buried as a child who had not yet earned his or her own way. Hatred. Rruror’rur’rr hated himself and it allowed the grief of complete loss to mingle with the righteous and unrighteous rage and it manifested itself in a heated swirling wind that whipped in from the creviced entrance about his feet. The voices were louder now, a howling crescendo, that tore through his mind and whipped his hair with an icy wind from deep within that blasted through the cave demanding blood.. On his knees, he reached down to his leather bandolier and pulled out his razor sharp homemade durasteel knife. It was time. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 20, 2018 Share Posted June 20, 2018 With his knife in hand, an internal struggle began; the final struggle. He could hear the voices of the ancestors urging him forward. Only his doubt held him back. To regain his honor and honor his people would be great; but he did not want to die. Even now, at the end, I seek dishonor and comfort over what I should do. The blade shook in his left hand. Putting his right hand over his left, Rruror’rur’rr drew the blade inwards towards his exposed stomach. Slowly, inch by inch, the blade shakingly drew nearer and nearer to his goose-pimpled flesh. The moment the warm durasteel touched his muscled stomach, Rruror’rur’rr gasped, the air sucking past his clenched teeth. Inhale. Exhale. do it. Glancing over at Rose, her lifeless body lying on the slab next to him, The Tusken gritted his teeth. He could do this. He had to do this. The ancestral voices urged him onwards. It was too late to turn back now. This was his final victory. ”I am coming my love,” He hissed, as he forced the blade inwards, the warm blood flowing down the blade, slickening the handle. Rruror’rur’rr gasped, sucking the cool air into his throat fighting back the fresh pain that coursed up his body. Past the point of no return. With his jaw set and both hands firmly grasping the slickened weapon, Rruror’rur’rr jerked the weapon across his belly, the razor-honed edge tearing through his flesh, emitting a torrent of blood down his hips and legs as he gasped in pain. The agony unlike any physical pain he had ever felt before; close enough to mirror the torment in his soul. As the blood poured freely onto the ground at his knees, Rruror’rur’rr tumbled forward, with the sound of a sickening slap, into his own pooling blood. Rruror’rur’rr rolled over onto his back, his mouth agape in agony, blood running down his chest and face as he stared upwards to the darkened ceiling not really taking anything in. Instead, all he could see was a tunnel of hazy grays growing to blacks as he was gently carried along the seemingly endless streaks of life with a slowly growing light approaching at the end of the elongated tunnel. In that moment, the fear and rage were no longer a raging inferno; they were still there, but instead of fighting to be freed they throbbed with an otherworldly calm; sensing that their release was near; prepared to tear free form their bonds and bestow their gifts upon the world uninhibited by the bonds of their mortal creator. Still, even in his last moments, there was one link that shimmered through the waffling reality that he was quickly slipping from his grasp; Raka. Through it all, the Tusken’s bond with his mount was unbreakable; bound through the ages from Tusken and Bantha to Tusken and Bantha since the fall of Tatooine. ------ The Drexl bore down upon the miniscule being that stood atop the quickly approaching dune to challenge him; his maw opening up a gaping hole of arm length yellowed teeth and foul breath. From his mouth echoed out across the dunes a cry of pain and anger as several blaster bolts sizzled into his shoulders and chest from the challenger. Painful, but not condemning; over time Raka would heal, with only the smallest of scars to show for this challenger’s defiance. The final blast tore into Raka’s shoulder right where his wing and torso connected, making him wince in pain and driving his well-tuned flier’s body crashing into the sands; his jaws snapping in a combination of pain and rage at where his defiler was standing only moments before; only to taste his air as he rolled out of the way onto his still airborne wing before it too crashed into the dune. Turning on his chest, Raka attempted to snap up the small shelled being, to crush his plates between his powerful jaws and lap up the ooze and jelly that came out. ((3)) ------ As this realization settled into Rruror’rur’rr’s mind, he found a strange outcropping of peace as the oceans of calming rage and cooling breezes of grief swirled about his mind. The peace was his Raka; his last and truest friend and bond to the world as he knew it. To die holding that bond was the greatest gift he could carry into the next life, to oversee Raka’s quest for freedom, at the side of Rose, his last and truest love. Even with all else gone, he had one last hope to hold onto as he completed this last great journey. ------ ”Hurry...It is not yet time… …blood has been spilled. We, the true children of Tatoo, will overcome. Just hold on. The worst is over. You only need to persevere.” A ghastly voice echoed through Rruror’rur’rr’s stupored mind. Suddenly, the warped and hazy tunnel was gone. Instead, he was looking down over the cavern where his body lay in a puddle of his own blood alongside the slab that kept Rose’ body free from his death throws. From his out of body vantage point, Rruror’rur’rr could see that the cavern was no longer empty. It was now packed to the brim with numerous brown skinned Kumumgah, the ancient ancestors of the Tusken and Jawa peoples. Still more crowded in, in a single file line bearing their meager belongings saved from their sprawling cities. At the doorways stood several more Kumumgah armed with aged weapons of unknown usage. The voice came from a single being in a large ornamental headdress, flanked by a quartet of similarly clothed beings with circlets about their heads and crystal bound staves in hand. ”…We have not lost everything so long as we have each other. Hold on. It will all be over soon… ------ Outside the cavern, the winds of Tatooine began to gently increase, at first, before steadily bringing forth a maelstrom of chaos, sending bits of sand and gravel tumbling through the air with no guidance or reason seeking out targets worthy enough to stop them. The brotherly suns sank beneath the horizon as they concluded their day’s chase and the bright star-filled sky coming into view; the ancestral warriors of Tatooine looking down on all, their cold judgmental gaze guiding and judging the living and the dying as equals. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 21, 2018 Share Posted June 21, 2018 From his ethereal perch overlooking the cavern, Rruror’rur’rr pondered, What is going on? Who are these people? Is this what the final trail unto death is like for all, a view into the unknown? The future perhaps? A future of unknown beings wielding unknown technology taking shelter from who knew what enemy. My people perhaps? But where is Rose’ body? Did they steal it?! Where is my body?! Perhaps this is in the past? If so, who are these people? The thoughts were a blurred jumble tumbling about Rruror’rur’rr’s oxygen deprived mind. Still, somewhere deep within his soul the very idea that foreigners toting weapons and, from the looks of it, day-to-day tools of unidentified technological nature angered him. Still his people’s lands were being defiled be this future or past. What would it take to end this war? And what would become of Rose’ body and his own? If this was the future were these technologically dependent beings also defilers of graves and bodies? Monsters. The lot of them! He snarled to himself. His disdain even in death for those he perceived as offworlders radiating through his dying energies. Still, in that moment of thought, a voice called out, the man-being below who seemed to be leading the defilers, ”The invaders shall not stop us. Have faith my children. The land that we have remained faithful to shall preserve us.” The true children of Tatoo…that’s right! Maybe these were the heirs of his people or his ancestors themselves. Perhaps they… But The Tusken was never allowed to finish the thought for in that moment, ------ The krayt sized winged beast thrashed about on the ground attempting to crush his much smaller foe beneath his sheer mass and girth; ever while searing hot blasts of red pain tore through his body. Sting me with your quills you pesky vermin. I shall not die! As his tiny foe leapt into the air, Raka swung his wing about in an effort to send the small wingless man back to where he belonged, the ground. As the man landed, Raka reared up his mouth wide open, blood and saliva dripping from his fangs. Beneath his shadow the little man stood alone, defiant until the end. You should have run tasty morsel. And in that moment, Raka lunged downward, his entire body flipping into the air with a flap of his damaged wings, bringing his full weight and width to bear down on the little man who was even now pointing another of his pathetic playthings directly at his mouth. time to die little one As his tooth filled maw crashed forward mere feet from Crix, the little man pulled the trigger. Raka did not known what happened next, for the briefest of seconds he felt a white-hot burning pain that circulated like raging fire in his mouth and then, nothing. He was gone, his body crashing forward following its master’s final direction of momentum atop the small man, crashing down without a care for the snapping of joints, tendons, or sinews. Raka’s very being was simply gone. In that moment it went from being to vapors swept away in the cooling Tatooinian night winds. Death. ------ Even as he was dying, Rruror’rur’rr clung to life in the form of his unshakable bond with Raka. In an instant, that bond was severed. Rruror’rur’rr did not know what had happened to his last comrade, but what he did know was that he was gone. They were separated; perhaps to be reunited in the next life; perhaps never. Having lost his tribe, his Bantha, his legacy, and even his newfound love, Rruror’rur’rr had been driven to the brink; unto death, the last thing that he thought he had. As he approached death he had realized that he had one more thing to grasp onto, the mystical connection between him and his mount. That, now, was gone. And with that, the last dam on the tide of his emotions broke. The emotions that had only surged forth to the surface before let loose; freed from their inner bonds and rushing towards the absolute freedom brought forth in death, to become one with the force and contribute to the growing darkness. From his out-of-body-position, Rruror’rur’rr witnessed his own body begin to thrash and convulse. Blood and spittle spewing from his mouth as he screamed an underworld cry of rage and regret, blood splattering through the air, coating the walls, Rose, and the slickening the floor. Still, the ethereal forms that crowded the cavern did not seem to notice; their spirits lingering in a single plane, but still separated by a fractional moment in time. Then the final barriers snapped and his rage and loss knew no bounds. No longer was there a barrier between time and eternity nor life and death. The dark side surged, empowered by the very lands of Tatooine and the ancient bloodshed of so many dark side users slain 25,000 years before mingling with the ancestral spirits that had guided Rruror’rur’rr throughout his life. Spreading from the cave like an invisible cloud, the dark hunger of the force surged forth, whipping the sands into a tempest of flesh ripping crystals in all directions. Only to suddenly subside as the brokenness of time caught up with it. Instantly, the lifeless sands were filled with lush thick foliage for miles in every direction, surging with the force as it sought out lives to touch; stopping for the moment when it found even more fonts of historical significance, a mask, worn by killers of years gone by. The expanding force stopped in order to draw forth the darkness and evil inherently contained in the sacred Mandalorian object. Lying amongst the dense greenery that once was Tatooine eons ago were the bodies of two fallen great beasts, the greater Krayt dragon slain by the trio of unlikely allies only shortly before and the still warm burnt flesh of Raka, torn from Rruror’rur’rr’s bonds and mind, having unleashed the tempest of undead unearthly power. The warm humid air of Tatooine hissed through the leaves as creatures long extinct slept or rustled in the underbrush, unaware of the binding of their time and the current galactic state. Then, the dark side ruled freely, their Rakatan servants taking its will far and wide. Now, the Sith were the servants puppets of choice and it would do what it must to empower its pawns. In the distance, the sands of Tatooine’s desert landscape swirled silently, unaware of the wrenching change that was slowly beginning to overcome the planet itself, pulling it into a space between time. Eternity. A space between life and death, a place where the force was and is the only truth and violence was its language; the place where the ancestors of the Tuskens, the Ghorfas, the Rakata, the Sith, the Mandalorians, and countless other warrior and conqueror races. Back in the cavern, the leader of the band of refugees turned and looked right at Rruror’rur’rr, seemingly unsurprised to see the human/tusken’s spirit there watching them. ”Brother, the end is nigh for us, but our people, they will live on,” The leader whispered. ”I am Krinlo. Rruror’rur’rr, you are our last hope. We have been watching you since you came to my descendants. It is not yet time for you to join us. We need to… …wait, what is that? Everyone get back from the entrance! Go deeper into the caves! NOW!!” Turning back from Rruror’rur’rr, the leader shouted at his people, urging the fearful crowd back into the darkened cavern, their glowing yellow lights barely illuminating enough against the inky blackness. Rruror’rur’rr could taste their fear. It was palpable and it empowered him. He could die if that was needed. Courage in the face of death. Unlike these pitiful cowards hiding from their fates. And then from the skies above rained down white hot burning fire, a torrent of pure dark side powered destruction. The greenery of the planet was instantly ignited in hellish choking flames, hot enough to peel the flesh from the bodies of the screaming forest creatures that began to run about in complete and total panic. In a matter of minutes, the dense plant-life of Tatooine’s past-bound to the present in the moment was gone, the soot and ash destroyed in the blazing heat, leaving only molten slag across the surface of the world. Inside, the staff wielding guardians that flanked Krinlo forced their way through the panicked crowds pushing their way into the cavern, their leader following closely behind them. Outside, the screams of anguish pierced Rruror’rur’rr’s ears and then fell silent as they were obliterated from memory. With a surge in the force, the staff wielding Kumumgah extended their hands, swirling them about in a mystical fashion, the crystals in their staves glowing as golden energy crackled and pulsed between them flowing into Krinlo, who with a surge of pure darkness, held up his open-faced palms to the opening as the flames raced in, an inferno of pure destruction and despair, only to be buffeted against the invisible barrier extending from Krinlo’s hands from floor to ceiling enveloping the entire room in a dark fear powered shield protecting those still in the main room. Deeper in the cavern, more screams could be heard as Krinlo’s other tribesmen were cooked alive. Rruror’rur’rr’s mind was buffeted with ancestral cries of pain and anguish, only to be suddenly silenced. For the first time in decades, his mind was empty. No longer was he whispered to by his guiding ancestral spirits. Silence. It was odd; but still, there was an incredible dark sense of joy. ”Finally, a sacrifice worthy of the darkness.” Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 22, 2018 Share Posted June 22, 2018 The disembodied voice seemed to echo through Rruror’rur’rr’s very soul, a dark sickened joy crept from the inky blackness of the depths of the cavern to fill the whole of The Tusken’s mind, fueled by the screams of those unfortunate enough to not be within the protective bubble of force power held unshakingly by the few Kumumgah below as they pushed all the power they could muster through the golden wisps of light and darkness to Krinlo as he quaked in his shoes, the very power threatening to consume him. In that soul-blackening moment, as time was twisted and morphed, the future, the past, and the present bound together in a constant twisting and knotting of power, Rruror’rur’rr’s vision began to haze once again. In that moment of haze as the vision before him faded he caught the glimpse of something that made his heart leap, a glimmer in the darkness. ”Rose?” The name formed on his dried cracked lips, a mingling of shock, surprise, and fear. Was this part of death? To see that which was closest to your heart in the moments of your passing, those who had gone on ahead? The ancestors and now Rose? What was that behind her? Following behind the familiar spirit of Rose, as she raced back towards her broken body was a dark and shadowy form; indiscernible in make, shape, or form but reeking of pure unadulterated darkness. Then he heard it, her voice, a voice he had never thought to have heard again. You?? She is talking to me! No! I cannot die! I mustn’t! I need to get back to her! NOOOO!!!! ROOOOOOOSE!! He wanted to scream, but his lifeless body lay there on the ground, the ever growing pool of blood slickening the darkened floor. Gone were the crowds, the flames, the protective barriers. No longer was Rruror'rur'rr's meager rage and grief needed to sustain the growing blister of infernal darkness; it was strong enough, even now, to no longer need the service of such a primitive mortal. He had brought it to its nest and given it voice and life; but to the darkness, his use was complete. Now he would die. In that instant, next to Rruror'rur'rr and Rose lay the lifeless charred bodies of countless more being embalmed in strips of cloth reminiscent of the wrappings of the Sand People known far and wide. Kneeling with the few refugees still living were all but two of the staff wielding guardians that had seemingly only moments before been channeling their power into Krinlo as they protected their small patch of Tatooine. Outside, after the fires had ravaged the surface of the world, burning everything they touched to ash and then to nothingness carried away by the raging winds within the miles wide circle that extended outward from the cave, leaving nothing but a molten glassy landscape in its wake. Beyond that, Tatooine seemed to exist out of sight and without concern for the dark machinations of the unbridled dark side fueled by the gathering of ancient artifacts, ancient bloodshed, fresh death, and the arrival of the Tusken’s chosen son as had been foretold in prophecies long forgotten by all but the eldest storytellers of the deepest wilds of Tatooine. Days, maybe even weeks, passed like moments, the twisting of the force’s unbridled power warping reality to its very whim before it slowed to a breathing being’s pace again, just as a dup of three pronged Rakatan ships settled with a crunching sound across the landscape of wind swept glass. Overhead the suns beat down mercilessly, turning the cool crystalline features nearly white hot; the guardian brothers doing their last effort to protect the world they oversaw. In unison, two reinforced unidentified metal doors crashed to the slick surface of the once lush planet sending bits of broken glass spurting into the air and the sounds of countless boots marching in unison echoed across the empty landscape; save for a lone Gank and a blackened cybernetic Mandalorian and their personal force-based demonic hells a short distance away. From the maws of the massive ships marched rows upon rows of black clad amphibian-esque beings with skin tones spanning the rainbow, each with eye stalks jutting from their elongated craniums. Each one carried a polearm type weapon with a fixed blade at the end and a blaster barrel less-than-concealed at the base of it, and an array of other weapons at their sides. From the marching columns emanated a filthy raging inky darkness, unchecked by the self-control exhibited by the marching soldiers, waiting only for the sign to turn it loose and unleash their unholy fury upon any that stood in their way. The legions of darkness had come to finish what they had started. Back inside the cavern, bits of dust and debris rained down upon the wounded and tending alike, signaling the arrival of the Rakatan horde above. The two staff-wielding guardians at the door rushed out into the blinding landscape at a nod from Krinlo, hoping against hope that their saviors had come; but sensing through their connection to the great ancestral spirits that whatever had come was just as dangerous. Shouts of discovery across the glassy landscape echoed off the sun-baked surface and red-hued bolts of energy filled the air. Even with the force, the two staff wilding servants were no match for the hordes of dark side bound foot soldiers. Stalking from the closer of the two ships a being armored in black as dark as the deepest untouched reaches of space strode forth, passion and pain emanating from him; an equally blackened saber hilt in his hand. Sniffing at the air, he snarled a curse to the cloudless sky, ”He is here! Bring me the survivors!!” The darkness that raged from the newly arrived warrior was kindred to the rage that had called Rruror’rur’rr home. They had been brought together by the darkness of the force across time eternal, transcending life and death to bind this duo who had not even laid eyes on one another as one and the same. Brothers if the force was allowed to work its mysterious magics. From every moving joint of the clad warrior crackled red ozone scorching electricity as he bounded forward, each step covering meters as he ran towards the cavern hidden behind a glassified dune. Inside, Krinlo turned to look at the writhing form of Rose with a look of fear in his eyes before turning to look up at the disembodied wraith of Rruror’rur’rr, the urgency apparent in his voice, ”Can you feel it my son? The traitor returns. He was taken from us when they first came. They twisted him. His ancestors watched him and foretold this day would come when he would return, a slave to his masters bidding. No concern for his own kind.” Spitting on the ground, he continued, ”No matter. Blood is only tinged water, nothing more.” And with that, Krinlo slipped his hand up his sleeve and withdrew a stoppered vial of foul looking green liquid with a smile. ”This is my fight son; but I’ll be watching you. It is not your time. Drive the demons away and save your people blood and bond.” Then Krinlo turned, nothing more to say to Rruror’rur’rr as he signaled his other staff wielding comrades who rose in unison to flank him as the blackened being appeared with a gust of cold wind that swept through the cave. To all present it was clear; death had arrived with a crackle of red dark side electricity and an ignited artic blue saber. ”Roo. You have returned as the ancestors foretold. Your mother would be pleased…” Cupping the vial back in his hand out of sight, Krinlo took a step forward, holding out his open hand as if to embrace the black clad warrior. ”MY NAME IS ORENTH!" ((EDIT: Forgot some punctuation)) Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted June 26, 2018 Share Posted June 26, 2018 ”I know my son. I do not know what they did to you; but you can always turn back. Come back to your people.” “Let me help you.” As he spoke, the venerated Kumumgah leader stepped forward, carefully running his open palm alongside Roo / Orenth’s helmeted head. Finding a notch in the helmet, the carefully moving elder acted with Force-fueled haste, pushing the button to sweep back the visor of the blackened armor to reveal the bleached face of a Kumumgah that had gone years without being exposed to the natural life-giving and taking energies of sunlight, splotchy and barren in spots, with the split square symbol of the aurubesh, orenth, emblazoned in a blackened deathly colored tissued scar across his forehead; his new name, the symbol of his oppression, his servitude, and his power. As the suddenly softened face of Roo / Orenth twisted into rage as his biological father exposed him to the harsh desecrated air of Tatooine’s cavern, he activated his ancient lightsaber, its orchid purple blade humming to life as he swung it upwards. In that moment, as Orenth’s blade began to bisect Krinlo from hip to shoulder, the Kumumgah’s leader completed his last plan; his death would hopefully save countless others. As his body fell to the blade, he swung about with his other hand, opening it and smashing the glass vial into his own son’s face, the green liquid splattering across the exposed fur and flesh, into Orenth’s eyes drawing a cry of fury as it steamed and burned. Krinlo fell, his body in two, to the smooth stone floor of the cavern, his eyes glazing over as he turned to look into Rruror’rur’rr’s eyes one last time, ”You are my son now….. As he fell back screaming, Orenth clawed at his face with his free hand, his saber thrashing wildly as he blindly swung it to force back the staff wielding servants of the fallen Chieftain until he could clear the burning vile liquid from his eyes. With his teeth bared in a snarl, his face soaked in the liquid as fresh burn marks and smells of acidicly burning flesh and singed hair rose from his open helmet. Breathing heavily he brought his orchid colored blade to center in front of him with one hand. ”You. Will. All. Pay.” And with that the cries of fear and pain echoed down into the darkened abyss of the cavern and out the entrance across the glassy plains outside. Orenth snapped his helmet shut and with the unpredictable and unprecedented moves of a whirling dervish, he lunged forward flipping and spinning as his blade cut down refugee after refugee. Even as the guardians of the people attempted to stand against him they were only able to block a single blow or two before they two were struck down in a hate fueled massacre until all that was left standing was the robotically panting night black armored servant of The Infinite Empire. Nothing moved, not a being stirred, death was the master here as it was across the lands devastated by the Rakatan hordes. Outside, the legions of black-clad Rakata turned their focus to the two figment fighting warriors, Dark and Crix, turning their force-powered exotic weapons on the two, opening fire with barrages of red laser fire as they advanced with a sickeningly coordinated order even as they gave into the darkness that swirled bout them; soldiers to the core and servants of the darkness to their soul, intent on one thing: carrying out the will of the darkness and purging this planet of those who would stand against them, an example to all other worlds across their kingdom of what would happen to they that stood and did not kneel. No quarter would be given. Any on this world would be destroyed. Back in the cave, the Kumumgah Force Hound turned his attention to Rose, as if seeing her for the first time, his saber raised ready to strike as he stepped towards her. In that instant, Rruror’rur’rr, who in the swirling mists of blood loss and the acceptance of his fate, knew that he was not yet done. It was not yet his time to die. Fueled by his own internal grief at all that he had lost and his rage at the site he had just witnessed, the birth of his people, the times legends spoke of, he forced his incorporeal being forward with a Tusken cry of rage that echoed across the land, even giving the advancing Rakata outside pause as the cry shook them to their core. Charging from his perch, unaffected by anything but the raging of the most primitive aspects of the force, he dove and drove his form straight towards the Force Hound, As Rruror’rur’rr slammed into Orenth’s body, the being waivered before falling backwards with a clatter atop the dead body of his own father. Shock covered Orenth’s masked face beneath his armor, at being struck by a wraith that had seemingly materialized out of the swirling glassy heat of the planet. ”You will not touch her.” The Tusken snarled as he passed through the Kumumgah’s body and circled upwards for another pass, instinctively reaching for the gaderffi that had always hung at his side. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted July 2, 2018 Share Posted July 2, 2018 Orenth gasped as he rolled backwards in a smooth combat-based shoulder roll clearly honed form countless hours of training in both physical pursuits and force training. Springing back to his feet, his face twisted into an eerie smile devoid of any warmth, he looked up at the circling spirit of Rruror’rur’rr, and chuckled coldly, ”It is not yet my time brother. When it is, your hand shall deal the final blow! Running a gloved hand over his face in an vain effort to remove some of the remnants of sticky green liquid that coated his fur, the Force Hound deactivated his orchid purple saber and sent the blackened hilt hurling through the air end over end towards the spirit of Rruror’rur’rr, who was still reaching for his gaderffi, unaware, that even in his naked spiritual state the weapon of his people lay somewhere lost in the darkened swirls of time and eternity on the sands of Tatooine outside. ________ Outside, the horde of dark side empowered amphibious soldiers pressed forward unaware and uncaring that the duo that they now engaged were as lost to the progression of natural time as they were, looped together and bound in a single moment by the force that swirled invisibly around the scene like a thick pressing humidity as unnatural as its natural counterpart would be on the dry desert world. Each time a soldier met the blade of the two advancing warriors it simply melted away into nothingness, the long dead warrior fading back into the swirling eternity that was the dark side. Even as explosions, noxious fumes, and blaster bolts filled the air, the horde pressed onwards, each fallen soldier vanishing into the swirling mists only to be replaced by two more from the ranks. They pushed onward, an unending press of darkness and death. ______ Feeling for his gaderffi, Rruror’rur’rr’s hand swiped back and forth several times, unable to comprehend that his ever-present weapon and companion was gone. Even as he prepared to charge the being who was seeking to kill Rose. He had thought her dead. The sight of her sitting up had opened up an even more gaping wound in his soul. The thought that she might die yet again consumed the life force that was still flowing from him. He would not let this Orenth, this monster, take her. He would die yet; but his death would bring purpose! At that moment, the sable-hued hilt arced through the air and, even in his spiritual phase, the Tusken instinctively caught the deactivated weapon in his hand. The moment the unnaturally cold ancient durasteel weapon touched his hand Rruror’rur’rr’s vision went dark as the sight before him exploded in an inky blackness, pure dark side energy radiating out from the connection its inky tendrils snaking out in every direction. As the blackness overcame him, the last thing that Rruror’rur’rr saw was Rose’ body, twisted and broken; yet somehow, alive. Then everything was black and silent. _______ From the cave exploded an ebony void that engulfed everything in its path, sunlight, moonlight, sand and glass, nothing stood before it. Still the advancing hordes gave it little heed as they pressed in, surrounding the two warriors that fought back. Their mission was clear: No Survivors. Dark side energy crackled between and about them as their exotic weapons poured forth blaster bolts as they fired and sought to impale Crixus and Atlas. With each stab, red dark side lightning jumped from their bladed poles towards their targets. Then, when it appeared all hope would be lost, the black enveloped them as well. In an instant, the ships, the legions, the very world was gone swallowed up by a void that was nothing but the dark side. The very next instant the legions were gone as was the glassy surface and carnage. In fact, aside from some very real wounds and memories; it appeared that nothing had even occurred on the sands of Tatooine, as the warm night wind blew bits of sand through the crystal clear night air. The duo of warriors was alone against the backdrop of Tatooine’s vast expanse. Two hulking corpses of predatory beasts fallen nearby. _______ Inside the cave, Rruror’rur’rr slowly opened his eyes, his own blood slick against the smooth stone floor and his bare flesh. The Tusken’s vision was blackened about the edges and he could barely lift his head as his life force ebbed its final journey from his body. Something was not right. He could feel it within, a growing presence, like a plague eating away at his very core. The pain he felt from his eviscerated gut mingled with the icy grasp of death on his fingertips; his only fuel his own anger, hatred, and fear forcing him to stay in this world. With that, he slowly raised his head to look at Rose. ”We have not yet finished with you.” The disembodied voice echoed menacingly through the empty cavern, save for Rose and Rruror’rur’rr. Shakingly pushing himself to his hands and knees, his own, still warm, blood dripping from his body, the Tusken looked down at the clank of metal on stone. There in his hand, clean amongst the blood, a sable hilt. This is your weapon now, not that Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted July 7, 2018 Share Posted July 7, 2018 The nearly naked, gutted Tusken Raider looked up at the approaching shambling form of Rose. She was alive; if barely. Something was not right. Aside from having seen her die and her life-ending wounds, and inhuman rambling, Rruror’rur’rr felt something. Something was not right. Rose’ presence, if that is what he could call it, was wrong. As she shambled towards him, Rruror’rur’rr knew, without a shred of doubt, that the outstretched arms twisted in pain and rage intended only one thing. She was going to try and kill him. Had he not already tried that himself? Let her kill him. They’d be together again in death. Still, that voice. The voice was Rose’ and he knew it, even in the short time since he had met her and become infatuated with her warrioress spirit. The voice begged him to lash out and kill her. ”I cannot.” He wheezed in his native tongue, a singular multi-syllabic growl. Rruror’rur’rr knew it in his heart. He was a Tusken, dishonored as he may be and he would die a Tusken. He hadn’t the strength to stand and face Rose as a warrior ought. Even as the rage and turmoil echoed in his chest, pumping his blood out faster and faster, his strength would not allow him to stand. ”DO IT!” A voice snarled from his own blood covered teeth. A voice that was not his own, but that of the ancient spirit of Orenth. ”Your time has not yet come. Your services are still required.” The disembodied voice of pure darkness echoed audibly through the cave. ”I cannot. I lack the strength. Let me die.” ”You cowardly fool! Let me! And then, in that instant, with the strength to barely maintain his own awareness, Rruror’rur’rr lacked the ability to resist any further and he collapsed with a splatter back into his own blood as his breath was drawn from his lips in what should have been a final pass. As Rose’ shambled towards him, however, suddenly, the body of Rruror’rur’rr began to rise, each muscle being forced against its natural will. First one arm and then the other, his left leg and then his right, until he was on all fours, like a cornered beast. Lifting up his head, he saw Rose’ approaching and a sickening flash of gold crossed his blue eyes. With an otherworldly snarl, Rruror’rur’rr felt himself rise up to a standing position. Blood ran down his bare chest and soaked loincloth and down his legs. He did not appear to be a Tusken anymore. Instead, he was a beast, a monster summoned forth from the bowels of time and space, a dark compact of the force and ancient prophecies. Still, Rruror’rur’rr could see and feel and think. He felt his every muscle protesting in pain as his body sought to die and be at peace with the natural order of things. He felt his desire for Rose. He felt fear real fear. He did not know what was happening and he was not in control. He also felt a rage and hatred; a rage contained for countless generations seeking to escape mingled with hatred for the very lands of Tatooine, the people that would dare to resist his awesome presence and the will of his masters. In truth, a rage and hatred that was not his own; but rage and hatred that made him powerful. Even in his mind, there was another presence. Yes little brother, I am Orenth. You are now Orenth. Together we shall continue on. Such is your purpose. I shall guide you and you shall be my slave. In that instant, the orchid hued blade in his hand erupted bathing the entire cavern in an alien glow. Rruror’rur’rr could feel his fingers pressing the activator switch of the blackened hilt. He saw his arm, through blood soaked lashes, raise the blade up expertly, as smooth as a Tusken with his gaderffi, and face the shambling form of Rose who was still pleading with him to kill her. KILL HER! ”I cannot.” He snarled fighting with his every ounce of will to resist the spirit that had consumed his body. ”I will not.” You can. You will. And with that, Rruror’rur’rr watched with shock and horror as he lunged forward with a step in his own blood and by his own hand drove the purple pulsating blade upwards into the gaping hole of Rose’ armor where the Krayt had dealt his own killing blow. Stabbing inwards and upwards in an effort to sear and severe organs, arteries, and bones and then in the same fluid motion withdrawing the blade and swinging it towards the blue haired temptress’s exposed neck in an effort to separate her head from her body. All Rruror’rur’rr could do was silently cry out inwardly in horror and rage as he struggled in vain to fight the spirit that had overcome him until they both collapsed with a sickening splat in the blood covered floor below a mass of blood covered flesh and wounds. The only sound: his ragged breathing. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted July 13, 2018 Share Posted July 13, 2018 Death. Rruror’rur’rr was condemned to it. His life had been leading to this point ever since his tribe had been killed and he had been captured. He had fought it every step of the way. Still, death was not a being to be outrun or fooled. Death found everyone. The Tusken lay there, his eyes open in slits as the sound of a slugthrower echoed through the enclosed cavern; lacking the power to open them any further or to even blink the blood from his lashes. He was not dead yet and suddenly, there were three bodies on the floor of this long forgotten nexus of dark side energies. As he lay there, each breath more ragged than the last, he saw through the haze of his own blood loss and looming demise a pair of legs step into view as the voice that must belong to the boots echoed on and on, as if through an empty duracrete tunnel, something about his death, …go figure… and then something about his being a traitor. He really did not understand what the voice was going on and on about; but Rruror’rur’rr knew one thing. Even now, at the end, he was not going to be allowed to die with honor. Not that he would not have done the same thing to a fallen foe. slain by an offworlder I cannot even stand and fight Rruror’rur’rr had long ago accepted that he was going to die. ”No,” A voice that was not his own, hissed from his lips. In that moment, Rruror’rur’rr knew, he could die, he would die; but would he die a coward lying in his own blood or would he do what must be done to die with honor? Even as his mind swirled and clouded with the loss of blood mingled with the loss of everything, Rruror’rur’rr knew that he had one opportunity. He was too weak to fight it anyways. So, in those final moments, the Tusken did what he had been resisting; he opened up his heart, soul, and mind fully allowing the spirit that already fought for control of his body to flow freely, unhindered and unresisted through him. The dark energies electrified him, giving his weak form power. ”Take me….my brother.” He hissed with his last owned breath, ”You are mine Rruror’rur’rr. Together we shall prevail,” The dark, otherworldly voice hissed from the Tusken’s lips as he pushed himself up, blood and entrails dripping from the man’s nearly naked form. In that moment, Rruror’rur’rr felt an unnatural twinge, like that of the ancestral spirits warning him of an incoming blow in years past. Still, he was no longer in control, the beastly spirit within had full control and in resistance, he found himself activating the blood-slickened black hilt in his hand, both the orchid purple and arctic blue blades erupting from the same end. He could feel the energy flowing through the duel crystals as they each fought the other for power and control, sparkling and sizzling as they spit stray bolts of electricity and fire from where the blades bound together as one. With an ancient ancestral cry of rage that fuelled his broken body with a surge of dark side energies, the spirit-controlled Tusken swung the arcing and crackling blade of dueling energies at the armored legs before him, upward towards where he knew the body that belonged to them would be; his body collapsing back into the blood as his supporting arm holding the saber left the ground, the saber swinging with lethal explosive intent. KILLSHOT DEFENSE & REVERSE KILL.INCPACITATING SHOT ON CRIXUS Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted January 22, 2020 Share Posted January 22, 2020 The cool desert night winds howled across the barren wastes of the Dune Sea. Little moved at night on Tatooine and nothing was moving here, on this cloudless night. Nothing out of the ordinary; at least for now. A shimmer of light flickered in the air, a wisp bouncing along invisible streams of air. It finally alighted atop the tallest dune in the area; flecks of sand slowly building it higher and higher. In an instant, where once was nothingness, a hissing sound erupted and as painted stroke by stroke a black clad figure formed out of the air. The wisp vanishing as the finishing touches of the being’s body formalized into physicality. Standing there in robes, black as the heart of The Maw itself, stood a man. His garb was Tusken in design. Hanging at his side, a shimmering blackened gaderffi. This weapon was not a rough hewn weapon made of scavenged bits of crashed starship. It was a weapon expertly forged of mysterious metal; a weapon made for a crusader. Through the shimmering blackened goggles, Rruror’rur’rr stared out at the cloudless starry sky. He did not know how long it had been or even what had transpired in the moments since his death. The voices of his ancestors, ever present comrades, were silent. Inhaling deeply, Rruror’rur’rr took in a breath of refreshing air; air that was his. Mingling with his confusion, love, and loss, the solitary Tusken felt a strange set of peace. ’You are mine. Your body belongs to me. Until your death, again.’ Rruror’rur’rr’s body tensed. The voice from his death. It was back. As much as he wanted to die; it seemed as though all of the fates had conspired against him. He had walked through hell, defied his customs, dishonored his traditions, and defiled his people. Still, he was cursed to not die, but to live. ’Your ancestors led you to me. Your life was a smattering of eking by, desiring but never grasping. Together, we will go into the stars. We will go further than any of our kind have. Together we will bring revenge on they that subjugated our peoples and destroy our world.I shall give to you all that you desire and more; all you must do is my bidding.’ the voice pounded in the Tusken’s head. Each word a drumbeat against his temples. Reaching up with his black cloth wrapped hands, Rruror’rur’rr grasped his head and fell to his knees, crumpling in pain. ’Good,’ the voice reverberated. ’Kneel in submission. I will guide you.’ Then, as suddenly as the painful voice was there, it was gone. The silence flooded Rruror’rur’rr’s mind as he slumped face first into the sand, his body drifting down the dune. The winds gently fluttering the loose edges of his blackened Tusken robes, slowly depositing sand against his body. Alive. Alive, but not free. The remainder of the night passed without incident. The following morning Rruror’rur’rr awoke as the twin suns cast their warm gaze upon him. Blackened robes were of little use in casting off the heat. Yet, this was the first that the Tusken warrior noticed them; as the suns beat down and warmed his back. Pushing himself up, the night’s accumulation of sand running down his back, Rruror’rur’rr stared down at his outstretched hands in disbelief. ’Had it all been a dream?’ Flexing his hands, Rruror’rur’rr already knew the answer to that. It could not have been. How else had he come to this place, clad as such? The only question was *what next?’ Sitting in the sands, the Tusken pondered that thought as he played the events leading up to his death and his rebirth over in his head. Images of his demonic mount, the Mandalorians, his ancestors, his decent into hell, and the otherworldly voices played through his mind. Two things stuck out to him. The first was Rose, the blue haired warrior was he had become enamored with shortly before his death. What had become of her? She had died; hadn’t she? If he asked himself, Rruror’rur’rr was not entirely sure of that. He had died too had he not? Yet here he was. Perhaps whatever desert spirit that has seen for to curse him back to this life had done the same for her… Secondly, the voice. It had spoken of revenge, of attaining the unattainable, of teaching out to the stars. Normally, Rruror’rur’rr would have discounted such notions as blasphemous adulterations of age of traditions; but given all that had happened, he couldn’t. Looking down again at his black garbed hands and arms he knew something had changed. Not knowing what else to do, and with the suns beating down on him in an ever growing onslaught of heat, the Tusken picked himself up and began to walk. The first thing to do was to figure out where he even was. The deserts of Tatooine were unforgiving at best. ————————————- Forwards. Onwards and upwards. They were the only directions the desert warrior could go. As he created his fourth dune something stood out from the endless waves of shifting sand: moisture vaporators; rows upon rows of them. Spattered amongst them a crew of six maybe seven hodge-podged metallic droids clinked and clanked as they tended to the accursed machines. Dropping into a crouch, Rruror’rur’rr after on instinct. Even if he could not hear the voices of his ancestors, he still felt their guiding hands ((the force)). Slinging forward, like a sand panther on the prowl, the Tusken made it to the first towering vaporator with ease. From there it was easy enough to bash in the hands of the first two droids with ease. A third noticed the decimation and quickly sounded the alarm, sending the remaining droids scurrying back towards the farm in the distance. Meeting little resistance, with gaderffi in hand, Rruror’rur’rr set off at a loping gait after the droids. Cutting down the slowest as he gained on them before a blaster shot rang out and the Tusken dove for cover behind another vaporator. The farmer apparently took offense to the black clad raider. Clutching his gaderffi, Rruror’rur’rr careful righted himself. Within minutes, he could hear the grumbling of the portly farmer as he strode forward, having contented himself on clearly scaring the Tusken away. *”…better not have broken my newly installed Turbo 3000 or else I’m gonna…”* That was all that Rruror’rur’rr heard before he brought the clubbed end of his shimmering black signature weapon down on the man’s head just as he came into sight. A sickly splatter sent bits of blood and brain into the air as the man’s body fell limp and porcine in the sand. Lowering his club, Rruror’rur’rr pondered. The voice had spoken of more; but what? Setting off towards the house, the warrior wondered what might await him inside. Answers, he hoped. Inside, Rruror’rur’rr found relatively simple living. Aside from the fact that the man clearly was a slob and lived alone, the thing that caught his attention the most was the nearly full wall sized display broadcasting one of the most loathsome, albeit intriguing, displays he had ever seen; two completely unclothed tendril headed aliens partaking in what he could only classify as blasphemous bodily acts with one another. A lesser Tusken would have immediately bashed the offending display to pieces. Rruror’rur’rr however hesitated. He had discovered that, while seemingly an abomination, even the darkly clad ancestor in his death has wielded some matter of technology to his benefit and still been welcomed home. Jabbing his fingers at the buttons whilst trying, and failing to not watch the vile display splayed across the wall, Rruror’rur’rr somehow managed, through force or luck, to activate some matter of menu. As the screen turned black a voice echoed from around the room: “Greetings. How may I assist you today?” ’it spoke?’ Rruror’rur’rr took a step back in surprise. It was like he was in the belly one of those fo droids. Pondering for a moment, the Tusken finally spoke, his voice a low mumbling growl. ”Where is Rose?” “Pardon me my liege, but there is no one by that name in the directory. Perhaps if you could provide me with some details I can scan publicly available census data and locate who it is you are looking for.” Rruror’rur’rr stared dumbly at the blank screen. “Rose is . . . ahhhh . . . A warrior. She . . . Blue hair. Offworlder. She died.” “That information is decidedly unhelpful.” the smooth metallic voice retorted. “Do you know how many warrior switch blue hair exist on Tatooine alone?” for a moment the computer whirred quietly with the Tusken staring stupidly at it pondering what to do next. A few minutes of silent whirring later the computer spoke again, ”This warrior woman you refer to, she would not be an affiliate of the Black Sun crime syndicate that settled planetside some time ago would she?” Without pausing to await a response, an image of Rose Cariadus flashed up in the wall sized screen surrounded by flashing symbols of encryption that obscured most of the information associated with the file. ”Because if so I believe this might be who you are looking for. Not much besides a name and a comm code though, I regret to say. I cannot even tell you if the code is still good. The files on Tatooine have not been kept up to date for quite a while.” Rruror’rur’rr grunted excitedly as a familiar image flashed on the screen. It was her! ”Is she, alive?” he asked hesitantly, not entirely sure he wanted the answer. What if it was no? What is she was gone, as well, forever? Before he could retract his question the computer responded. ”It appears she was reanimated and left the planet. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. If you want, I could try the transmission code; although I assume it will only result in another Imperial cease and desist order. She does seem your type though.” ”Do it!” the Tusken snarled excitedly as he threw his hands up in the air. Quickly and quietly a transmission was sent out into the cosmos. The encryption on it was more than simple; but it kept honest broadcasters honest and without having any idea where to start, the broadcast across all usual channels was a long shot at best. Still, it had worked in the past judging by the stack of no contact orders in the bedroom. 1 Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvernfall Posted February 5, 2020 Share Posted February 5, 2020 Standing there in silence for several minutes, Rruror’rur’rr watched the blank screen. He was not sure what he was expecting. Truthfully he did not even understand what had happened in its entirety. ‘Filthy technology!’ Tapping a gloved hand on the screen seemed to result in nothing. What had he expected, Rose to just materialize in the room? Technology did seem capable of magical things. Blaspheming as he was already, Rruror’rur’rr wondered what the point was anymore. After several minutes of no response, the Tusken set his eyes on the rest of the room. It was filthy, something that would, and probably did, end up getting one killed in the harsh deserts of Tatooine. Shaking his head, Rruror’rur’rr made his way to what he could only assume was the kitchen; judging by the fly infested dishes in the sink. Opening cupboards he began to look for something to eat. Up until this point, he had not realized just how hungry he was. Coming back to life reanimated by a mysterious dark being really took it out of you. Finding several seemingly edible cakes of unknown origin, one appeared to be some sort of meat, and a unopened container of Jawa Juice in the cooler, Rruror’rur’rr made his way back to the large screen. Shoving aside a stack of documents and data pads with a flatter, the Tusken cleared a spot to sit. Not sure what else to do, he contended himself to sit and eat and wait. He wouldn’t want to miss Rose when she called back. Finishing his meal, Rruror’rur’rr contended himself with the remoteness of his location and the fact that no one had yet come to check on the porcine offworlder. Soon enough he found himself fidgeting with whatever doodads and gizmos were within reach. He really had not ever bothered with the enemy’s trinkets; but if they could allow him to find Rose, maybe he could find a use for other bits and baubles in the house. One thing led to another and Rruror’rur’rr lost track of time as the suns outside raced higher and higher in the sky. He was content to dig through the deceased’s belongings with impunity. That was until a sound outside caught his attention. Jerking his head up with a growl of concern, he grabbed for the smooth black gaderrfi at his side. He knew that sound: electricity. It was the sound of an offworlder preparing to attack. He knew that from past experiences. What he saw; however, gave the Tusken pause. There, a shadowy figure envelopes by the bright sunlight outside, stood another Tusken, with an . . . offworld weapon? What was this trickery? This was not what he expected. It was probably the furthest thing from. Even as he was shrouded in blackened robes of his people, this being was enveloped in fear of white and black; yet clothed as one of his own kind. Still, whoever this was, was not one of his tribe. They were dead. His heart pained at the thought and the dark voices in his head whispered wordless feelings of anger and revenge, urging Rruror’rur’rr to take it out on this trespasser. Gripping his gaderrfi tightly, Rruror’rur’rr raised it defensively, ready to strike. ‘What if this is Rose? Has she come for me?’ Tensing his body Rruror’rur’rr growled in his native Tusken, “Are you too a demon come to haunt my cursed steps? A wraith of the sands conjured to guide me? My Rose returned from beyond? Or have you come to claim my conquest as your own?” With that, he jabbed the sharp spear line end of his mysterious gaderffi towards the newcomer, tense and prepared to fight even as his mind pondered what could be happening. He did not know and that scared him. Profile Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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